The Knight And The Lady
by CooperGirlHH
Summary: The Just King loves his sisters, but is there room in his heart for another girl? Sequel to A Narnian (K)night. Reviews are most welcome as always ...
1. Chapter 1

**The Knight And The Lady**

 **Summary:** The Just King loves his sisters, but is there room in his heart for another girl?

 **Author's Notes:** I'm such a writing machine these days ...

Anyway, when I posted _**A Narnian (K)night**_ , I received a couple of reviews/messages from readers who were expressing their interest in reading more about Edmund and sweet Medeha from Terebinthia ... and who am I to deny this to them? In case you haven't read _**A Narnian (K)night**_ , I would advise you to do so before reading this fic ...

I do hope you'll enjoy ... and please let me know what you think afterwards :)

 **Disclaimer:** The usual applies (as written on my profile)

 ** _Lydwina Marie_ has edited this for me again; thank you so much :)**

XXX

The morning of the feast dawned cool and clear, coloring the horizon a deep red hue. It was unusual, though, for King Edmund the Just to be awake in time to witness this beautiful spectacle – this particular morning, however, it was a different story. But, truth to be told, it hadn't been of his own choosing. His sister, Queen Susan, had just swept out the door, her long skirts brushing the floor and her high-spirited voice still ringing in Edmund's ears.

"Now, now, brother, it's high time you got out of bed! There is still so much to be done before the feast tonight," she had said to him.

Grumbling a few words he hoped she had not heard into his pillow, he had turned over, entangling himself into the duvet in the process, just in case she decided to try and rip that away. And indeed she had tried but had given up soon, sighing, "oh dear... well, I really don't have time to fight over this today. Just note please, that I'm sending Hermus over in half an hour, so see to it that you'll be up and ready by then."

Listening to his sister's cheerful morning greetings to everyone as she hurried back down the corridor again, Edmund rolled over in bed once more and groaned quietly, trying to calculate how long he could stay under the covers and still be up and washed before the faun dressmaker would come and force him to try on the night's attire. It was only today that Hermus would have the chance to make his finishing touches on the king's outfit. Admittedly it was a little late to be doing this, and Susan would not have agreed if there had been another way, but with so many preparations still to be done, and Edmund just having returned from his latest tour to the north, there had been no other option.

 _Ten minutes should suffice to get ready_ , the tired king thought to himself. Actually, from past experiences he knew he could make it in five – but today he had better be on the safe side, for his elder sister might have a fit, if something – _anything_ – were to go wrong.

But even that still meant he had twenty more minutes to himself.

Enough time to think through the events of last night. The acquaintance he had made.

 _Medeha_...

He had to admit that she had left more of an impression on him than he had thought she would; certainly more than any other girl or woman before.

At first, seeing her stand by the railing the previous night, he had felt like it would have been impolite to not go and say hello. Then the fact that she had been so deep in thought that she hadn't heard him approach had intrigued him. Next he had been quite impressed by the fact that she had not been completely lost for words or giggly – as most ladies tended to do when they were dealing with a king.

It wasn't until she asked him about Peter that he realised that she obviously didn't know who he was. And something inside of him had made him want to keep it that way; maybe it was just the comfort of knowing that to her he was nothing more than a friendly stranger. Now, however, he did feel a little guilty about leaving her in the dark; Medeha would be in for a surprise that night, and would probably feel very bad about not having known. He would never hear the end of it from Susan if she knew about the whole affair.

But he might talk to Lucy later, to find out what she thought.

 _Medeha_...

Most young ladies he had met were terrible chatter boxes, always to be found in a group – and usually swooning over his brother. (Not that Edmund could blame them; Peter _was_ , after all, High King over the rest of them. That alone was impressing. And he _was_ also quite pleasant to look at; broad shoulders, angular features and that golden-blond hair of his ... there was no arguing about it)

However, the conversation with Medeha had turned out to be quite pleasant, and it wasn't a lie, either, when Edmund had told her about remembering her picture very well. She was indeed a sweet-looking young woman. He liked her soft features, framed by a thick mane of wavy maroon hair, and her eyes shone bright and friendly. Most of all, though, her smile had intrigued him; shy though it was, so very genuine all the same.

It was only then that Edmund suddenly realised, with some shock, that he had lost himself in his thoughts and forgot the time; he could already hear the voice of Hermus, talking to himself as was his unfortunate habit, approaching along the hall. Next there was a gentle knock on the door.

"My lord king?"

 _Blast!_ He hadn't washed at all yet, and his hair was a mess. Not that Hermus would allow himself to comment on that, but he was bound to tell Susan, even if only by accident. (Susan had a way of getting things out of the faun even if Hermus promised not to say a word.)

"Just a moment," Edmund called out. He got himself ready in record time, although his hair was wet and still rumpled over his eyes.

Then there was another, much more forceful, knock on the door. "Ed! Are you decent?"

He swore again. Lucy!

"We're coming in now anyways," the Valiant Queen added before she even received an answer. In her opinion this was enough of a warning before she swung the door open and swept in, Hermus on her heels. A new silken tunic hung draped over Hermus' bent arm, and Edmund noticed with pleasure that the faun looked rather sheepish, probably half-heartedly expecting the king to be stark naked. When he saw that this was not the case, the faun let out a relieved breath.

Raising an eyebrow at the intruders, Edmund asked, "Where's Susan?"

Lucy shrugged. "Oh, she said she didn't have time for your morning attitude today. She left it to me to make sure that you behaved yourself with Hermus."

Eyebrow still raised, Edmund turned to the faun. "Have I ever not?"

As much as fauns could blush, poor Hermus did so. "I, er... well... when His Majesty was younger... sometimes he, well... though of course today..." he stammered, but Lucy interrupted him with a snort and a wave of her hand.

"Stop yelping like a dog, Hermus. We all know the beast Edmund can be when his patience is tested. And, well... fitting the clothes Susan wants us to dress up in can be quite trying – especially this early in the morning." Lucy winked at her brother, who decided to nod gratefully in agreement and leave it at that.

Hermus seemed thoroughly relieved at Lucy's words. "Well, then, if His Majesty would kindly put on his new attire..."

Edmund, wearing naught but his breeches and undershirt, took the silken garment from the faun and felt wrapped up like a Christmas gift just by holding it. When he put it on, however, he saw Lucy smiling at him appreciatively.

"You look nice, Ed," she said, and the honesty in her tone made him think that this time Susan might have actually shown a little bit of a decent taste after all. If there was any indicator that he didn't look completely silly, then it was Lucy's initial reaction.

He started tugging at the fabric here and there, then lifted and stretched his arms, finding it a little uncomfortable to move. The tunic had been sewn after the example of his latest festive attire, made for a banquet held at Anvard, just before winter had set in. Then most of the winter he had spent, together with Peter, in Narnia's north, helping citizens to survive its uncommon harshness, handing out food and firewood and even transporting some of the weakest to other places where the cold wasn't as deadly. It had been the coldest and longest winter in ten years; Edmund had been home at Cair Paravel for less than a week.

Lucy watched them both as Hermus started picking at the tunic, listening with a grin as the faun finally mumbled, pins between his lips, "A bit tight around the shoulders..." Hermus took the pins from his mouth and gave the king a thorough mustering. "Seems as though His Majesty has become a little broader as of late."

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Edmund replied. "Well, can you widen it? I intend to be fully capable of moving tonight."

"Of course, sire," said the faun, nodding. "If you'd just take it off, then I can take it to my study and undo the seams. I'll be right back."

Hermus had disappeared through the door, Lucy came over and swatted her brother playfully on the back of his head. "Stop looking so smug," she chided.

"Just grant a man his accomplishments," he said, rubbing the place where she had smacked him.

Lucy laughed but soon she sobered up again. "Honestly, Ed, next time we really need to get this done long before the day of the feast. If Hermus has to redo the seams more than once, we'll never get you ready in time."

"Not my fault Susan's kept him so busy with sewing new tablecloths and making tapestries all the time since I returned," Edmund retorted. "Honestly, Lu, I barely recognised our banquet hall."

"She just wants everything in order for a perfect feast. It's the ten year anniversary of our coronation, after all, and – in case you've forgotten – also the ten year anniversary of _her_ –"

"I haven't forgotten," he cut her off, his tone a little sharper than he had intended it to be. Feeling sorry for that, he continued in a gentler voice, "Lu, do you have a minute? There's something I thought I might just run by you..."

"What it is?" Her curiosity was spiked at once by his serious tone.

"Promise you won't say anything to Susan or – _Aslan forbid_ – Peter?"

Lucy looked almost affronted at that; she prided herself on being completely trustworthy. "Do I really have to say it?"

Edmund grinned, then started, a little hesitantly. "Last night, when I –"

Footsteps approaching and Susan's voice in the hall caused him to stop abruptly. A moment later, the door swung open and both Susan and Peter stuck their heads in. "Are you ready yet?"

But it took another full hour until everything was fitted well and the faun could finally make the finishing touches on the Just King's festive attire. Despite Edmund's hope, there was no further chance to talk to Lucy alone again, for Susan kept them all busy. She even chased both of her brothers to the royal barber to have their hair cut. Later, when they were finally off the hook, Lucy was swept away by her older sister to have _their_ hair done, and Edmund watched her being dragged off with a half-heartedly suppressed sigh.

A nudge in the ribs from his brother brought his attention to Peter. He glared at him. "What?"

Peter gave him a suspicious look. "Well, brother mine, I was wondering if there was something going on between you and Lu. You've been throwing each other glances as if there was something you wanted to talk about but couldn't."

"What makes you think that –"

He was interrupted by the door opening and Peridan coming in, leading a group of young people, most of whom Edmund didn't recognise. Several pairs of curious eyes stared at the two kings, standing in the middle of the otherwise empty throne room, clad in their most casual attire. Whispers rose among the guests, and Peridan became uncharacteristically red in the face.

"I beg your pardon, sires! I didn't know you were here... well, anyways, we can continue our tour somewhere else and come back later," he stammered, turning to shoo the curious guests out of the room, but Peter stopped him at once.

"No need to rush off, Peridan. Let us greet our guests."

Unprepared for meeting Medeha again already, it was now Edmund who shoved his brother hard in the ribs. "Peter, we're not... I mean, don't you think... it's not..." But he broke off, not really knowing what to say. He had meant to bring up the fact that they weren't clad properly, in their comfortable cotton shirts and loose fitting trousers, but that would only have made Peter more suspicious. Neither of them cared much about that, even if Susan kept telling them otherwise.

While a group of awed looking young nobles filed back into the room, Edmund found himself shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. Then he stopped. And stared.

 _Medeha._

Her eyes flickered upwards, widening as she realised whom she was looking at. And this time there was no mistaking who he really was, because daft old Peter was already holding a welcoming speech, introducing both kings to their guests.

There was no way out now. Soon enough, Peter started with the personal greeting of each guest, who had all lined up looking very excited, and it would have been highly impolite if Edmund had not followed that example.

As he approached Medeha, he felt his ears grow red and silently cursed Susan for having his hair cut so short it didn't hide them anymore. Only two more in the line – then he would have to face her. For loss of a better solution he finally decided to put on his widest smile.

After he had bowed to Medeha, he winked at her and said, "My lady, I believe we have already met."

He had never seen anybody's cheeks go as red as Medeha's did; she was utterly unable to hide how uncomfortable the situation was making her. Edmund's conscience pricked as he saw the confusion rise in her lovely eyes, and he was about to intervene when she curtsied and stammered, "My lord king, I had no idea... please... forgive me." She was close to tears.

Edmund winced. He would have slipped his arm about her, like the night before, and done his best to ease her discomfort. But with Peter, Peridan, and the rest of the nobles staring at them, all he could do was lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and whisper, "All is well. Worry not, Lady Medeha."

"But ... _your_ _Majesty_..."

Edmund, however, had already moved on to the next guest, and Medeha's words hung in the air uncomfortably. There was a palpable tension in the air now, and it ended only after Peridan had finally chased all the guests out of the room again. When the door closed behind them, Peter turned furious eyes on his brother.

"By the mane, Ed, what was _that_ all about?" he exclaimed angrily.

"Not your business," said Edmund curtly, and turned to go. When he felt Peter's hand on his upper arm, trying to hold him back, he simply shrugged it off and ignored his brother. But the High King didn't take well to that. Peter followed him all the way as Edmund hurried through the halls, towards his private chambers.

It was lucky that once there, they ran into Susan. Edmund breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. Not even Peter would dare to wind up Susan today. And indeed, he didn't say anything about what had happened, but kept throwing his brother angry glances whenever their sister wasn't looking. Susan suggested that they all go and find Lucy as well, and then have a bite to eat. After that was done, the Gentle Queen chased them all into their chambers to get dressed for the feast.

While his personal satyr valet, Gregorius, was fussing over his outfit, Edmund couldn't help thinking of Medeha again, and the tears he had seen welling up in her eyes. She must have felt horribly embarrassed, and it made it worse that all the other guests had also witnessed the scene. Edmund felt very guilty – if only last night he had told her who he was!

He resolved to explain everything to her at the feast.

XXX

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Huge thanks for your reviews! I appreciate reading what you think, it's a great motivation! (Hence, here's the next chapter ...)

 **Special thanks again to _Lydwina Marie_ for helping me by editing :) Great work!**

XXX

The feast began late in that afternoon, candles sparkling in niches along the wall, while outside the sky had become overcast. A faint rumble of thunder echoed through the hall, reaching the Just King's ears as he sat high on the dais.

Edmund had to admit that his sister had outdone herself this time - the royal banquet hall was looking marvelous. For a moment he, Peter, and Lucy were all rendered speechless as they entered, taking in the decorations Susan had set up with the help of their valets and the kitchen staff.

With a smile, the Gentle Queen urged them all to take their seats while their guests had gathered as well, sitting along the three lines of tables placed perpendicular to the royal dais. A moment ago there had been a buzz of noises, but as the four sovereigns took their seats everyone fell silent, looking up at them expectantly.

Edmund had to suppress a sigh. The part that followed now was, in his humble opinion, the most boring part of all: the speeches. As had become custom, he and his siblings would each stand up and say a few words to welcome their guests, starting with Peter, of course. It would have been okay if it had been just a few words, but this part usually took up to an hour.

Watching his brother stand up, Edmund had to admit that the High King looked truly impressive that evening. Peter stood before the kings' and queens' table, tall and magnificent in his festive attire, and his voice rang out loud and clear as he spoke. As per expected, most of the young ladies in the hall were gaping at him, mouths wide open. Edmund wondered briefly if any of them might be drooling. A snicker very nearly escaped him, but he stifled it, thinking - though not for the first time - that Peter could be quite annoying in all his noble magnificence. But despite that, Edmund was still secretly very proud of his elder brother.

After Peter, Susan rose gracefully to her feet, and she, too, had the guests' full attention. Now Edmund was quite sure that her admirers _were_ probably drooling while watching her. And he could hardly blame them; his sister was quite beautiful in her new gown and her long black hair.

When it was his own turn to say something, he noticed that he had a little trouble focussing on his words, despite having thought them carefully through in preperation for the feast. Unlike his siblings he had, over the years, developed the habit of walking up and the down the lines of guest tables when talking to them. It had originally been born out of nervousness; a relict from the times when he had had to get used to speaking in front of many (when he had been much younger), but he stuck to it because it was the best way of keeping everybody focused on him as he spoke.

When he walked past Medeha, he barely recognised her at first. She was looking completely different tonight, with her long hair pinned up into a loose bun and her dazzling, dusky pink shimmering gown, hugging her soft curves prettily. She had quite clearly realised that he was looking at her, but avoided his gaze. Her cheeks had reddened again, and Edmund noticed that across the table another young lady was unsuccessfully trying to suppress a snicker. There was little he could do about it now, but he intended to have a talk to that girl. Who did she think she was?

The last to speak was Lucy. His youngest sister stood up and began expressing her gratitude, to Aslan first, for helping them save Narnia all those years ago; then to her siblings for keeping the country well and safe; and then to the guests for coming to celebrate with them. When she was done, Edmund sighed in relief, watching out of the corner of his eye as the food was brought in. It wasn't as opulent as Susan would have wanted it to be - after the last winter the castle's pantries weren't nearly as full as they were usually in spring, but there was still enough for everybody.

Soon after the food was eaten and everyone felt comfortably filled and slightly tipsy from the wine, the dances began and the atmosphere in the hall became less formal. Having a feeling that Peter would take the first opportunity he saw to corner him about the encounter earlier, Edmund carefully made sure to stay out of his brother's way as he walked through the lines of guests, looking out for Medeha.

He found her dancing with another young noble, an Archenlander Edmund knew to be a couple of years older than himself - and internationally known to be in search of a wife. But what was he thinking, trying to charm poor Medeha? She was only eighteen - far too young to marry, if Edmund was to be asked.

A well-known voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Dance with me?"

It was Lucy, and with his customary grin he accepted gratefully.

While they danced he told her the whole story of what had happened the night before, and as he had expected, she scolded him roundly after hearing it.

"Why, Edmund! That poor girl! Do you have any idea how she must have felt when she realised?"

"Of course I do, Lu," Edmund defended himself. "And I _am_ sorry."

"You ought to apologize to her, not to me!"

"I'm planning to." He gave her a sheepish look. "You won't tell Peter or Susan, will you?"

She stopped dancing, shaking her head. "No, although I have a feeling that I should ..." Then she gave him a shove. "Go and find her! And tell her, if she's not too put off by your silly behaviour, that I should like to get to know her."

Seeing that the Archenlandish lord was now dancing with somebody else, Edmund started once more to look out for Medeha. But he couldn't find her anywhere. Instead, he suddenly caught sight of Peter, who was, thankfully, still out of reach, but definitely trying to make his way through the crowd towards him. Good thing he was always surrounded by female guests who were trying to gain his attention and slowing him down in the process.

Edmund turned away from his brother and grinned to himself, while he easily escaped through the main entrance into the hallway that led to the guest wing of the castle. He had just had an inkling of an idea as to where to look for Medeha.

He hadn't actually thought there to be much chance of him finding her as he stepped out onto the terrace - but yet there she was, standing by the railing again. A light drizzling rain was still coming down, and Edmund wondered how Medeha wasn't freezing with her arms bare as they were.

Opting not to startle her again, he called her name before coming closer.

She really was beautiful, he realised again as he gazed at her. A little on the short side, maybe; she barely reached his chin. But he liked that about her. And there was a certain feminine softness to her that he found quite attractive.

Peter, the old dafty, could often be found gaping at lean, wiry shield-maids, such as those of the Archenlandish _Order of Pear Valley._ This was a once nondescript settlement deep in the most unaccessable mountain chain of Archenland's south, until one day it was raided by a clan of Carmomenes. Robbed of all men, it was now a maternally organised community that existed almost independantly. Many of these women had at some point in their lives fought for the Archenland army, and a few even served in the Narnian army now. But Medeha... she had probably never fought in her life.

For a while they just stood together, side by side, rain running down their faces and necks, and a harsh wind tugging on their hair. The magic of last night didn't seem willing to repeat itself. But Edmund wasn't planning to let her go without at least having apologized to her.

"You really need to hear what I have to say, Medeha," he finally said when the silence grew too uncomfortable. "I never meant to embarrass you, you ought to believe me."

"But, your Majesty, it's -" she said, her words barely audible over the sound of the seawind and the crashing waves down below.

"Edmund," he interrupted her at once. "Please don't call me Majesty."

"But... my lord - " Medeha stuttered in confusion.

"Not that, either," Edmund grinned boyishly. "Now are you going to forgive me for getting you into such a tight spot?"

"It's alright," Medeha said reluctantly.

"I don't think it is," Edmund said softly.

She turned warm eyes on him. "You don't understand," she said very quietly. "It's my own fault. I could... no, I _should_ have recognised you the minute I saw you."

Puzzled, he stared at her. "Why would you have?"

"You came to Terebinthia, six years ago - don't you remember? You and your siblings... Father said you were traveling to all of the islands, for diplomatic conferences. He invited you to our castle on the eastern coast and you spent two nights with us."

Edmund tried to remember, but too much had happened since then. His recollections of Terebinthia were hazy at best.

"It was six years ago," Medeha said meditatively, and he smiled.

"I was fourteen then!"

She smiled back. "You don't look that much different, just a little taller, I suppose."

He was about to protest, but decided against it. Instead he asked, "And how come I don't remember having met you?"

Medeha winced in recollection. "I was very ill that summer and not allowed out of my bedroom. It was horrible; I cried my eyes out because I wasn't going to meet you."

At her words he suddenly remembered. "Yes, now I know; my sister, Lucy, was so disappointed when Lord Medane said you couldn't join us. You being her age, she had wanted to meet you." He shook his head incredulously. "How could I forget?"

Medeha laughed softly. She was no longer looking shy or sad, or even embarrassed now. Her eyes shone as she continued with her tale. "On the evening you arrived I felt well enough to sit up and walk around my bedroom for a bit. I even asked Father if I could join you all for the evening meal, but our physician said I might be infectious. So I only caught a glimpse of you and your brother through my window."

He was surprised. "Really?"

Medeha blushed. "I couldn't help watching you. You were sparring with your swords, out on the lawn beneath my window. I was mesmerized - none of our soldiers were able to wield a blade the way you did. And you were both so young! Then my maid came and told me that I wasn't supposed to spy on you. She made me go back to bed."

He grinned. "If you liked watching us spar, you can come to our training grounds tomorrow. Watch officially this time."

"Do you still practice fighting?" Medeha asked enthusiastically.

He nodded. "Every day. One ought to... at least if you have a country like Narnia to look after. And, who knows?" He winked. "Lucy might even agree to show you how to use a bow... unless you know already, that is."

She shook her head. "But your ship - it's leaving in the afternoon to take us all back ..."

Edmund shrugged. "Don't worry. I hereby invite you to stay with us for as long as you want. We'll send your father a message."

"But, your Majesty-"

"Edmund."

"King Edmund," she corrected herself hastily. "I don't know what to say..."

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Say yes. And leave off the formalities. I'm Edmund to you."

She regarded him for a long while, pondering his suggestion. He was beginning to worry that she might say no to his invitation, but then, eyes shining, she accepted.

X

The feast went on late into the night, but Medeha found herself comfortably tucked up under her covers long before the music coming from the great hall finally trailed away. She didn't mind having missed some of the celebrations, for she was going to make the acquaintance of real Narnia in the morning! And she didn't mind not having danced with High King Peter. Or not having spoken with the lovely Queen Lucy. Both, along with Queen Susan, she would get to know soon enough, having a week ahead of her here in Narnia.

With these thoughts on her mind she happily fell asleep.

A knock on her door woke her long before she was ready. She groaned, taking a long moment before she realised where she was. Then she finally managed to call out.

"Yes?"

A deep voice came from outside. "Lady Medeha, this is Lord Peridan. I came to tell you that Queen Lucy invites you to have breakfast with her."

Medeha sat bolt upright, sleepiness washed away at once. "Yes, alright ... my lord ... when? Where ...?"

She heard the young knight laugh on the other side of the door. "Whenever you're ready, Madam, I will take you to the king's and queen's private dining hall. I'll be just outside your door."

Medeha rushed to get herself presentable and was soon following the young man through the corridors. He was, she had learned, not only a high ranking officer in the royal guard, but also one of the most trusted confidants of the High King himself. Both being about the same age, Peridan was probably also a friend to King Peter.

While walking through the castle, Peridan leading her through private areas and holding the many doors for her, Medeha caught several jealous glares from some of the other guests. She would have enjoyed pulling a face at them, but was too well-behaved to do so.

The kings's and queens's private dining hall was already occupied when they arrived. The moment the door opened, Queen Lucy, wearing a plain white, floor-length dress, jumped up and came hurrying towards her. Medeha noticed that the famous Queen was barefoot, her long hair flowing undone behind her, but it didn't matter; she was a natural beauty - tall, lean, and full of ernergy. There was no way one should not like her at once.

"Medeha!" she exclaimed happily. "I am so glad you came!"

Behind her, King Peter had risen to his feet, and Medeha noticed that this morning he was not looking very much like the magnificent High King from last night, but rather like an ordinary young man, who had had too little sleep and possibly also a little too much wine the night before. His hair was in complete disarray, sticking out oddly at the back of his head, and his attire was simple; wrinkled linen shirt and worn breeches.

He must have noticed her surprise at his dishevelled appearance, because he looked down and gave her an apologetic half-shrug.

"Sorry about that," he said, throwing his little sister a glance. "But Queen Lucy hadn't mentioned we would be having a guest for breakfast." Then suddenly a thoughtful line appeared between his eyebrows. "Aren't you the young lady from yesterday ... the one who apologized to my brother for some reason?"

Medeha felt herself grow red in the face. "Well, I ..."

But Peter didn't let her continue. "You're not to worry," he assured her calmly. "I know my brother; whatever it was you felt obliged to apologise for, I am quite sure the whole affair is not to be blamed on you. But you _can_ tell us what's behind this, can't you?"

She could, but judging by the stern look on his face she had a distinct feeling that the High King would not like what she would have to say, and Medeha didn't want to be a cause of trouble between the king brothers. Helplessly she looked from King Peter to Queen Lucy, and then to Lord Peridan, who had settled himself at the table and answered her pleading look with a shrug.

It was Queen Lucy who finally helped her out. "Peter, let her off the hook, will you?" she said, smiling at Medeha.

The High King turned to his sister, frowning. "Do _you_ know what's going on?"

Medeha thought that with his eyebrows drawn together like that, he did look quite intimidating, even without crown and court attire.

It seemed obvious that Queen Lucy knew more than she let on; she merely shook her head, though. Then she turned to her guest again, taking the young lady by her wrist gently and pulling her to the table. "Come Medeha, sit with me. Tell me, what would you like to do today? Edmund said last night that you agreed to stay with us for a few days."

"If your Majesties don't mind..." Medeha trailed off in embarrassment, realising that her decision had been made without the others' consent.

The Valiant Queen beamed at her. "No, not at all!"

Medeha looked at King Peter but he, too, nodded in agreement. "If our brother invited you, you shall be welcome to all of us!"

Medeha smiled. "In case you don't mind me asking, where is he?"

"Oh ..." Queen Lucy grinned. "Don't expect to see him before he is due on the training grounds, just after the midday meal."

"We usually train in the morning," King Peter added. "It's just because of the feast last night that we rescheduled today's training." He paused thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Ed since I tried to corner him last night about that scene in the throne room. He escaped me, the little prat." He turned to Medeha as if he had just remembered she was there. "Oh dear, sorry about saying that."

Lucy giggled. "I didn't see much of Ed last night either. I wouldn't be too surprised if he snuck out and went to bed early. He's not had a lot of rest after that last tour to the north."

"And your royal sister, Queen Susan? Will she join us for breakfast?" asked Medeha.

Behind her hand, Lucy giggled even more. "No ... she's probably sitting in her bathtub right now, a facial mask smoothing her skin. For breakfast, I'm afraid it's just the two of us."

XXX

 **A/N:** Sooo - breakfast with the royals ... Lucky Medeha! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Edited by _Lydwina Marie_ \- many thanks to her! :)**

Enjoy the new chapter ...

XXX

Cair Paravel's training grounds was a wide lawn, spiked with targets for the archers and lots of space for sword practice. A couple of soldiers had gatherered already when Medeha arrived with Queen Lucy; some of them were strong young men, and a few were even women. Most of the soldiers, though, were fauns, sartyrs, dwarfs, and centaurs.

The two young women sat down on a small stone wall, which separated the training space for the archers from the sparring fields. Medeha smiled excitedly. Just one day ago she would have never expected that while the _Splendid Hyaline_ was on her way out, carrying everyone else back to the islands, she would get to watch as High King Peter, now in full armor and looking mightily impressive, stepped onto the training field. He was accompanied by an elder, much thicker, merry looking man, both of them talking animatedly.

Queen Lucy bent over and pointed at her brother's companion. "There's King Lune of Archenland," she explained in a low voice. "He never misses a chance to spar with our soldiers, preferably one of my brothers. He and Peter have spent the morning together, discussing a new trading agreement between Narnia and Archenland." A grin split her face as she added, "Oh, and look! There comes the other brother!" She giggled girlishly. "Just in time for training ... never a minute too early."

Medeha turned just in time to see Edmund hurry down the path towards the lawn. He, too, was clad in armor. When he saw the girls he came over and smiled at the Terebinthian.

"Hello, Medeha."

Queen Lucy cleared her throat pointedly, making her brother laugh. "Oh, and hello to you, too, dear sister." He bent down to kiss Lucy on the cheek, and Medea caught herself wondering how it came to be that the weight of his chain mail didn't make him tip over as he bent. She had always wondered how the soldiers could move the way they did in it. Queen Lucy, however, was not wearing anything more protective than a leather corset over her long skirts, but then, she had come to train with a bow.

While the queen and the lady were practicing their archery - the latter turning out to be a lot more talented than she had expected - Medeha couldn't help watching the swordsmen train in between her shots. She was quite impressed by all of them. Even King Lune, heavy and slow though he looked, fought surprisingly light-footedly. But the two Narnian kings were easily the best on the training field.

"Don't they fight each other?" Medeha wondered. Only then did Queen Lucy seem to notice that her student's attention had wandered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your brothers, I mean," Medeha clarified. "Don't they compete against each other?"

Queen Lucy rolled her eyes. "They used to," she explained. "But lately, they haven't. Nothing comes of it, you know? They know all of each other's tricks. If they fought they would be at it forever; neither would give in. And, because they're the kings, everyone would feel obliged to watch until it ends. We've been there before, it was quite tiring to be honest."

"You wouldn't want to get on their bad side, would you?" Medeha pondered with a smile. Then she added, "I saw them do it once."

Queen Lucy looked puzzled.

"I saw them sparring." A smile etched itself onto the lady's face as she remembered. "Six years ago, when you four came to Terebinthia. They were practicing, just outside my window." Medeha felt herself blushing. "I remember thinking that they were highly skilled, but they looked like mere boys pretending to be men, especially Edmund."

"He was fourteen, so no wonder," said Lucy laughing. "I still remember the first time he held a sword... he was only ten. And quite small, if I remember correctly; back then Peter loved to wind him up by calling him a midget. Me, too, by the way. Don't let Ed know I told you that, though."

Laughing, Medeha promised.

After a while Queen Lucy said in a serious tone, "I do hope you've forgiven him for his behavior the other night. He truly regrets putting you in such an uncomfortable situation..."

"I know," Medeha said quietly. "And I was never cross in the first place. Just embarrassed."

X

After spending the day with Medeha. Lucy came to the conclusion that she was a very nice young lady - a girl, actually. And a talented archer; nowhere near as good as either of the queens, of course, but already better than both of their brothers, even if they had a head-start of a few years of training. She was also kind and well-behaved; it seemed that - like Lucy - she wore her heart on her sleeve.

And here was the point where, as Lucy thought, it might become complicated - at least if her assumptions were correct and Medeha was genuinely interested in her brother. She hadn't quite said so but the glances she had thrown at Edmund had told Lucy all she needed to know. After all, the Valiant Queen was a girl herself.

If it had been up to her, Lucy would have without hesitation paired her up with Peter. The High King was, no matter what reputation he might have outside the castle walls, a kind and gentle-hearted person, and he was usually very outright and honest about his emotions. He would have made a wonderful partner for a gentle soul such as Medeha.

Edmund, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. It wasn't that Lucy thought any less of him or that she didn't love him as much as she loved Peter, but she knew that younger of her two brothers could be very closed up about his emotions, and that he could lash out quite harshly if you tried to get past a certain point he didn't want you to get past. His siblings had had years to learn how to deal with it. But how was Medeha to cope, especially if she was easily ready to make herself vulnerable by opening up?

As Lucy led Medeha back into the castle for dinner, she wondered if maybe a few words of warning were in order; but then again, it wasn't up to her to get involved in this.

Dinner that evening was a noisy affair, although most of the guests had already left. It was usually the feast after the feast that was the most high-spiritedly celebrated, with only the closest of friends still around and the atmosphere laid back and easy. Included in the gathering were King Lune and his loud, cheeky son, Corin, along with Peridan and Mr. Tumnus the faun, Lucy's own dearest friend. The faun had served as the queen's most cherished advisor over the last ten years.

As small a group as they were, they made noise enough for twice their numbers, and Lucy could see at once that it unsettled Medeha a little. The Terebinthian was placed between the two queen sisters, directly opposite Corin. The ten-year-old, however, showed little interest in the lady, and much more in getting to drink as much of the heavy red wine as he could without his father noticing.

"So ... Medeha ... " Susan was sipping her wine; the food on her plate was still pretty much untouched (she claimed to be still full from the night before). "Which one of my brothers is it, then, who's been trying to court you?"

Medeha's mouth dropped open, and then she swallowed convulsively, clearly lost for words.

Susan smiled. "Sorry, I thought you'd already got used to our straightforwardness."

Lucy almost choked with laughter, relieved that Susan felt comfortable enough around Medeha to make such a joke.

The Valiant Queen's laughter caught Edmund's attention at once, and he looked over suspiciously. He was, Lucy had noticed, not nearly as relaxed as he usually would have been in the company of these particular guests, and he was also holding back on the wine. Their eyes met and Lucy smiled at him, raising her cup to salute. When usually he would have repeated the gesture, this time he merely rolled his eyes and glanced towards Medeha.

The Terebinthian was in deep conversation with Susan now; the Gentle Queen was asking her all sorts of questions about who had made the dress she had worn for the feast and telling her how lovely she had looked wearing it. Lucy could hear it in her sister's voice that all of her compliments were meant honestly; there was no doubt she liked Medeha.

The jolly atmosphere was very abruptly interrupted by a valet stepping in and giving a short wave at Peridan.

It had become common that if anything unexpected came up the knight would see if he could have the matter solved before involving either of the kings. All four of the sovereigns had a lot on their mind, and the court had decided that anything that could be delegated had to be delegated. Lucy watched with a small, uncomfortable knot in her stomach as Peridan got up and excused himself, then hurried out of the room. He returned sooner than expected, his expression grave and his hair ruffled as if he had run his hands through it several times; a sure sign he was wound up.

"Sires ..." he addressed the kings. Alerted at once, Peter and Edmund rose to their feet. As all three young men hurried out of the room, Lucy knew there was something wrong. She exchanged a worried look with her sister, then caught sight of Medeha, who seemed uncomfortable.

It was all Lucy could do not to race after her brothers to find out what was going on, but she controlled the urge for their guests' sakes. They finished supper surrounded by a tense and uncomfortable silence.

Later Lucy found her brothers, Peridan and Orieus, the army general, holding council in Peter's small study. The room was crowded, especially with the centaur in it, and the tension was palpable. When Lucy entered, four frowning faces turned towards her.

"What happened?" she asked, her stomach queasy with worry.

The two kings exchanged a short glance, and then Peter let out a sigh. "As it seems, we got so distracted with everything going on here _in_ Narnia, what with the winter and the feast, that we neglected to keep an eye on what was happening _beyond_ our borders. Now our scouts bring us terrible news from the northern border; giants have come across the river Shribble. They raided every settlement they could find, probably hungry after having suffered from the winter themselves."

Lucy felt her heart beat faster. Her throat constricted, she barely managed to choke out, "Have they ... done a lot of damage?"

"Yes, they probably ate their way through the beasts - talking or not - all along the border," Edmund said through gritted teeth before Peter could reply. He was, Lucy noticed, a lot paler than usual - white, even, his dark eyes in sharp contrast.

Lucy knew why; a few years ago her brother had made the acquaintance of a group of talking hares who lived just south of the river Shribble, and who had taken part in saving Edmund's life when he had had to flee from a giant settlement on the river's other side. From what they had just learned there was a high possibility that they - or some of them - had fallen prey to the giants' attack.

Peter took charge again, announcing, "We need to ride out north, assess the situation, and drive the giants out of Narnia, if necessary. Then we'll have to set up more outposts along the river. This cannot happen again!"

Lucy felt her eyes fill with tears. "Those poor creatures," she whispered, laying her hand on Peter's arm. "But must the two of you go as well? Can't Orieus lead the amy?" Her face tightened. "You just came back."

Peter looked thoughtful. "I think I will have to go, yes - to oversee the operation. Orieus and his troops will come as well." He turned to Edmund with a stern look. "You will stay here, Ed. You have a guest to take care of, and you've been back from your last tour for barely a week. We'll manage."

"But you are going to need my troops as well," Edmund protested at once. "We're dealing with giants here, Peter. You know what they're capable of."

Peter frowned. "I'm not going to argue about this, Edmund. Send Carron, he's captain of your division; he shall lead them. You're staying here until further notice." Seeing his brother's pained expression, Peter's features softened a bit. He knew, just as well as Lucy, what was bothering the Just King. "Just hold out for a couple of days, Ed. We're going to secure the border, then we must organise some sort of memorial for all the souls that were lost. We should all be present for that, so you, Lucy, and Susan will come, as soon as it's safe." As an afterthought the High King added, "Please, see to it that Duke Medane's daughter is taken care of when you leave the castle. It's probably best if she is on her way home by then."

"But Peter - "

"You heard me, Edmund," said the High King sharply. "No arguing about this." And with a curt nod to each of them, his siblings were dismissed.

On the way to their chambers Lucy threw a sideways glance at Edmund. He was clearly fuming, but he didn't say anything. She could see that his lips were pressed together so tightly they had lost all color and his eyes were small slits. As they hurried down the corridors Lucy could barely keep up with his long strides, and her heart sank when she saw Susan and Medeha waiting by the door of the kings and queens private lounge.

Why hadn't Susan sent Medeha to her chambers, yet? Quickly, Lucy realised that, after seeing Edmund and the fury that radiated from him, Susan was thinking along the same lines as her sister, but it was too late now.

Their brother simply strode past the two young women without so much as a word, and headed towards the staircase that led up to their bedchambers. Lucy sighed, put an arm around each, and led Medeha and Susan into the lounge. The Terebinthian looked very uneasy and Susan gave the impression that she couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or worried. She finally settled for simply asking, "What happened?"

Lucy repeated what she had just learned about the giant raids. After she finished, Susan breathed out a long sigh, which could also have been a sob. "This is dreadful news ... No wonder Ed's all wound up, especially since Peter ordered him to stay behind. But he _is_ right, though, don't you think, Lu?"

"No," said Lucy, voice tight. "No, I don't think so." She turned to Medeha. "I'm awfully sorry, dear, but I need a private word with my sister. I'll have you accompanied to your chambers."

She sent for Gregorius and the satyr led the Terebinthian away. As soon as she was out of the room, Lucy inquired, "Why was she still here?"

Susan shrugged. "She was curious and eager to help. So is Lune, by the way. He will offer Peter some of his troops as well, I believe."

"Yes, probably," Lucy agreed. "But don't change the subject, Su. I'm worried about Medeha - she shouldn't have seen Edmund ... like this ..."

Putting an arm around her sister's shoulders, Susan said, "But Lucy, if her interest in him is genuine, she needs to be aware of his moods as well. We both know he can be difficult, and she needs to know how to handle it, don't you think?"

There was a point to what Susan said, and reluctantly, Lucy conceded. Instead, she started to cry softly. "You're right, Su, I'm sorry for snapping at you ..." Now that the tears had come, suddenly all her emotions broke free, and she shook with deep, rasping sobs. "It's just that everything's so horrible ... and ..." She drew a deep breath; "and Peter ... he can be such a stubborn git! I really don't know why he won't let Edmund go with him ... he needs to know what happened to his friends, the hares ..."

Tightening her hold on her little sister, Susan soothed gently, "I know, Lu, I know. But we'll all go north, once the situation is secured. Don't you see? Peter just wants to keep Edmund away from danger, and he has every reason to do so. Ed's not going to admit it, but he's still exhausted from his last tour. Peter's had two more weeks to recover; he's in better shape. And then there is Medeha, too. It's Edmund who invited her. He should be here for her as long as he can."

It took a while before Lucy's sobs subsided. Wiping her eyes on her handkerchief, the Valiant Queen sniffed, smiling through her remaining tears. "Poor Medeha! She shoudn't have witnessed all this. I should really talk to her in the morning and explain everything, shouldn't I?"

Susan agreed with a nod. "We both should."

XXX

 **A/N:** Sorry for leaving the all-fluffy comfort zone in favor of a little angst ... hope you're still enjoying the story, though ... let me know!

In case you haven't read it; the hares appear in my story _**The King's Quest**_!

Cheers


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Yay! A new chapter! Lovely **LydwinaMarie** has looked this over for me - thank you so much!

XXX

That night Medeha slept fitfully. The evening's events had made her feel less welcome than before, and she couldn't even blame the kings and queens. The were preoccupied with taking care of their kingdom, as it was their duty. But why, by the Mane of the Holy Lion, had Edmund glared at her like that before rushing past? She could see still his tight-mouthed expression before her, his blazing dark eyes ... so unlike that mischievous young man who had shown her the stars two nights ago, or the kind, sheepish king who had apologized for getting her into an embarrassing situation.

And why had the sweet, cheerful Lucy sent her out of the room as if she was an intruder?

Maybe she _was_ an intruder?

Weeping silently into her pillow, she fell asleep after tossing and turning well into the early morning hours.

She woke to the sun tickling her nose. A breakfast tray sat on the nightstand, and a piece of parchment lay beside it. Curious, Medeha stretched wearily before reaching for the note and unfolding it.

 _Come to the stables after breakfast._

 _Gregorius will show you the way._

 _Do not worry about last night._

 _Lucy_

Feeling a little better now, Medeha did as she was told. First she got washed and dressed, then ate most of the breakfast. After she had eaten she stuck her head out her chamber door cautiously, not surprised to find Gregorius waiting just a few steps down the hall. The satyr noticed her presence at once, bowed, and asked in a kind voice, "to the stables, my lady?"

"Yes, please, Gregorius." She smiled and a moment later she trailed down several corridors and staircases after the satyr. The stables, situated on the castle's lowest levels, were already crowded and busy; the troops were getting ready for their departure to the north, and Medeha could see the two kings standing a little offside in deep conversation. Judging from the look on Edmund's face, the Just King still objected to being left behind.

Gregorius led Medeha to where the two Narnian queens were overseeing the preparations. When Lucy saw that the Terebinthian had arrived, she headed towards her at once, pressing a friendly kiss on Medeha's cheek. Susan followed a couple of steps behind, linking her arm with Medeha's, and the two queens and their guest proceeded to wind their way through the busy crowd of soldiers to show her the stables. But they soon realised they were in the way, and after they had caught a few painfully unsubtle, stern glances from King Peter, they meandered away from the crowd; one level above the stables, they settled on a terrace. From here they could still watch without disturbing the preparations.

Medeha accepted a cup of tea, offered to her by a faun named Rufus, Queen Lucy's personal valet. Sipping the hot liquid was a pleasure since it was a cool morning, the early spring sunrays too weak to offer much comfort. "Are there any changes of plans?" she asked, looking at the queens.

Lucy shook her head. "No, Peter's adamant about his decision. He wants to ride along with the troops, but without Ed."

"Oh," said Medeha; secretly she felt somewhat relieved.

Lucy smiled softly. "Ed's still quite wound up; the mood you witnessed last night is actually nothing compared to what we had to endure this morning at breakfast."

"He'll get over it," said Susan. "But we probably won't be seeing much of him today."

That was disappointing to Medeha, but she did her best to not to let it show. Obviously, however, she wasn't doing a good job at that, because Lucy, after regarding her for a moment, bent close, her hand brushing Medeha's arm comfortingly. "It's better this way, dear. There are times when you should stay out of his way, unless you like being grumbled or sneered at. He'll be in a much more accessible mood tomorrow."

The three of them sat together, the spring sun shining with increasing force, until Medeha found it warm enough take off her heavy cloak. Preparations were nearly finished down below, they saw, and finally the party of three troops, each holding forty soldiers, set out with High King Peter in the lead. It was shortly after the gates had closed behind them that Lord Peridan found the three young women. He bowed deeply to each of them.

"My ladies," he said, inclining his head. "All went well, and the troops are on their way."

Lucy nodded, and after a short pause, Susan asked, "and how fares my younger brother, Peridan?"

"Well..." the knight replied hesitantly, "his Majesty still seemed a little ... preoccupied ... when last I saw him."

Lucy raised an expressive eyebrow. " _Preoccupied_?"

With a shrug, Peridan nodded. "For lack of a better word, my lady." He bowed again. "And now, if you would excuse me, I shall go and see if I can find him for a little sparring session. A few rounds on the training grounds would do his Majesty some good, I should think. Pity, though, for King Peter's taken most of his best swordsmen along on the campaign. No one left but myself as a sparring partner ..." He sighed, and turned and walked off.

Lucy let out a small giggle. "Poor old Peridan. If he is going to take on Edmund today, he is in for a hard time." Her eyes lit up. "Shall we go and watch them from afar then, Su?"

Susan looked quite horrified. "You two go ahead if you think you can bear to watch _that_ spectacle."

Lucy turned to Medeha. "Are you up for it?"

Medeha was not entirely certain if she was, but she was curious nonetheless. She agreed and the two girls hurried around the castle to where the training lawn spread out one level below. They settled by the railing and waited. Sure enough, after several minutes, two tall armoured figures stepped out onto the lawn, and only minutes later they were engaged in such a vicious sword fight that it had Medeha sweating just watching them.

X

After a couple hours of sparring with Peridan, Edmund finally felt his anger draining away; he simply didn't have enough energy left in him to hold on to it. Peridan was a good sparring partner, his skill almost equal to Peter's, yet his fighting style was more like Edmund's own: quick, light-footed, and based on swiftness rather than sheer force.

Exhausted, but grateful to be able to think more clearly again, Edmund began to wonder what kind of an impression he must have made on Medeha. Of course he knew he could trust his sisters to have taken care of her, but he still felt guilty and ashamed for his inexcusable behaviour.

He had once vowed to himself that he would learn how to better keep his temper in check, looking back on a ten-year-old boy who had let himself becomeso consumed by anger and hatred he had eventually betrayed his own family to their worst enemy.

Edmund sighed. No matter how much he wanted him to no longer exist, he still _was_ that boy, if fully grown now and having made up for his faults several times over (if Peter was to be believed). He often wished he could just talk things through and be done with it, the way Peter did. Of course, the High King did get angry as well – very angry, if you managed to get on his bad side – but he controlled it much better; usually he would just speak his mind or confide in one of his siblings, then drink a nice cup of tea and get over it.

It didn't work that way for Edmund. He didn't quite understand why, but it had always been that way and he didn't think it would change. At least, though, he usually managed to make sure that nobody got to take the brunt of it. But this time it had meant avoiding Medeha, his guest. He wondered if she had been completely put off by his behaviour now.

After stripping off his amour, he gave a curt, thankful nod to Peridan and walked from the armoury to the paddock by the stables where he found his favourite horse and close friend, Philip, grazing comfortably.

Thankfully Philip had not been taken along by Peter and his army; in fact, he had been claiming for a while now that he was getting too old to be a warhorse. And Edmund knew it was true, however much he regretted it. Philip _was_ getting old, and a lot slower, too, than he had been. However, he was still in the army, training the younger horses. One of his most successful students was Emil, who had once saved Peter's life, carrying him, wounded and unconscious, out of the thick of a battle, and was now the High King's first choice whenever he was to go on a campaign.

Edmund silently watched his friend munching grass for a while, then whistled to catch the horse's attention. "Oi, Philip!"

The horse looked up, and as always Edmund wondered if it was a smile he saw, although Philip kept saying that horses couldn't smile (anatomically impossible).

"Edmund, my friend," he said, while still chewing. "Good to see you." He didn't stop grazing, not even while greeting his king. Edmund bit back a sarcastic remark as he swung himself over the wooden fence that surrounded the paddock. He walked over to his friend and patted the strong neck.

"How are you?" asked the horse, around a mouth full of fresh grass. "Word had it that you weren't in too much of a good mood."

Edmund let out a small laugh. "That's a nice way of putting it."

Finally stopping to chew for a moment, Philip nudged him gently with his nose. "Feeling better now, then?"

With a shrug, Edmund slung his arm around the horse's neck, patting him again affectionately. "You seem quite content, sitting around here, while everyone else is out there fighting for our safety."

Philip chuckled. "I was a war horse long before you even turned up. I think I've earned the right to stay behind and let the younger ones fill out my former role in the frontline. Besides, without my rider, I might feel a little out of place."

With a smirk, Edmund arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were a warhorse already long _before_ I ever sat on your back?"

"Got me," admitted Philip. "However, I could do with a little trip outside the castle boundaries. Just without the anxiety of fighting and needing to fear the swords that might run me through at any moment, or the giant clubs that might crush my skull. Are you up for a little ride?"

Edmund considered his friend's suggestion for a moment. It sounded like a good idea; they needn't go far, just a bit of cantering over the nearby fields and maybe back to the castle along the beach. He realised he could also bring Medeha – it might prove a good opportunity to make up for his behaviour. So he nodded eagerly. "I would just like to bring somebody else along, if you don't mind."

There was that strange air about Philip again; not quite a grin, yet still looking like one.

"Are you talking about the lovely young lady from Terebinthia your sisters introduced to me this morning?"

"Yes, well, that might happen to be the person I'm talking about," Edmund admitted, carefully guarding his expression. He didn't have any secrets from Philip, but didn't want his friend to see things that weren't there, either. And mentioning his plan to take a girl along could trigger any kind of curious thoughts. "And don't you get any funny ideas, Philip. She is merely here for diplomatic reasons."

If Philip were a human he might have rolled his eyes, but as it was he simply whickered, sounding faintly amused. He didn't say anything else, though, except for the fact that he didn't mind taking Medeha along and that he wouldn't mind carrying her. Agreeing, Edmund chose Meryl for himself; a tall black mare that was regularly Peridan's horse, but rarely ridden, because Peridan, being head of the royal guard, rarely rode out.

The problem now was how he should approach Medeha. After asking Ludonis, one of the satyrs who served as grooms, to get the two horses saddled, Edmund went to find the Terebinthian. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and if they wanted to ride without risking to not be back before dark, they needed to leave in the next half hour. He soon found out through Susan that Medeha was with Hermus, the dressmaker.

"She didn't bring clothes for more than for three days, and she didn't even expect to be staying that long, did she? And we can't expect her to keep wearing the same garment for a week," explained Susan, and Edmund had to admit to the logic in this.

When he reached the dressmaker's study he found Lucy standing outside the door, and his sister beamed brightly as soon as she saw him. "Edmund! Are you feeling better now?"

He gave her a sheepish look. "Much better ... sorry about earlier."

Lucy had never been one to hold a grudge, especially not when her siblings were involved. She came to him, still smiling widely, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and snuck an arm around his waist. "You intimidated your guest a little," she said with a grin. "Other than that, everything's fine."

He nodded, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I know. I must apologise. And I intend to do so as soon as she comes out of there."

"Oh, they should be ready soon." After kissing his cheek once more, Lucy went to knock on Hermus' door, pulling him with her in the process. Only now did Edmund take notice of the low, steady flow of words coming from inside. He grinned, realising the faun was probably mumbling to himself as he concentrated on taking Medeha's measurements. Edmund bit back a grin. Hermus had always been most peculiar; he wondered what Medeha might think of him. But then, almost everything in Narnia was probably peculiar to her.

"Come!" called the faun at the knock, and in response Lucy broke free from her brother's embrace and cautiously opened the door a crack. "There's somebody here to see you, Medeha." A moment later, the young lady exited.

Ever since his conversation with Philip, Edmund had wondered what exactly to say to her; nothing he had silently gone through had sounded right. But as she stood in front of him now, he suddenly found it not so difficult anymore. He gave her a regretful grin, and when she smiled back in response, he took her hand and looked in her eyes.

"Only your fourth day here, and it is already the second time I have to apologise to you ..."

She went a little red at his words and opened her mouth to reply, but he gave a small shake of his head before she could. Lucy had gone inside Hermus' study, probably giving the faun a list of what kind of clothing Medeha would need, so the two of them were alone in the hallway.

"The thing is ... well ..." he started, but interrupted himself. Choosing his words carefully, he began anew. "You weren't supposed to witness all this. I can't really explain it, but ... you know ... Pete's just such a dafty sometimes, and horribly stubborn ... not to mention self-righteous. It just winds me up. Not always as bad as this time, but ... anyway, I'm frightfully sorry you had to see it."

Looking shyly at her hand, still firmly enveloped in his, she replied, "Your sister, Lucy,was quite angry with your brother's decision as well. I guess you both must have had good reasons."

He shrugged. "Even if that's so, it still doesn't seem very dignified to let anger take over the way it did in front of a guest, does it?"

"Well, no ... but I'm not angry with you now, if that's what you're afraid of."

"It was," he admitted. "Actually, I'm here to try and make up for my behaviour, so if you're not put off, how would you like going for a ride along the beach with me?"

She beamed at his suggestion, looking even more beautiful wearing this expression than Lucy had a moment ago. "I'd love to!" A small giggle escaped her. "I suppose we must ask that poor creature inside to make me some riding clothes first thing." She pointed at the door to Hermus' study. "He was already overwhelmed by the list of to-dos Queen Susan has given him earlier... I hope I won't be too much of an inconvenience to him."

Edmund laughed and waved off her concerns with his free hand. "Don't worry. Hermus needs constant inconveniences he can complain about, otherwise his mental balance might be disturbed."

They both laughed heartily.

XXX

 **A/N** : TBC :) please let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thanks once again to Lydwina Marie, for helping me edit this! :)

XXX

For the first time since arriving at Narnia Medeha felt almost a little bored.

She was sitting alone in the royal lounge, reading a book. Everyone was busy fulfilling their duties; Queen Susan was engaged in diplomatic correspondence with important foreign ambassadors, mostly declining their requests for a visit within the next month and trying to arrange for another timing. Lucy and Edmund were sitting in court, meeting their subjects to dispel their worries on rumors that had spread throughout the country about giant attacks in the north.

Medeha had been their guest for a little over a week now; she had been shown every last corner of Cair Paravel by Lucy and ridden for hours through the woods and over the fields that surrounded the castle with both, Edmund and Lucy. An eagle by the name of Skygrace had always accompanied them as their scout, making sure they were well-guarded at every moment.

Several messages had arrived at Cair Paravel from High King Peter and his troops, letting the remaining royals know their progress towards securing the northern border – and always assuring the High King's younger siblings that their brother was well and healthy.

Medeha wondered if not she should go and see Philip, the talking horse she had made friends with during the past few days, when Lucy came barging into the room, looking flushed and dishevelled. She was still wearing her crown, but it sat askew on her thick hair, looking ready to fall down at any moment.

Medeha shut the book she had been reading and got up from her seat. "Lucy," she said, walking over and putting a calming hand on the young queen's upper arm. Lucy seemed to be vibrating with energy. "What happened?"

"Peter sent the griphons ... to fetch us for the memorial. Su, Ed and I will leave the castle tomorrow at dawn."

"You'll be ... riding on griphons?" Narnia never ceased to amaze Medeha. _Griphons_? To ride on?

Lucy nodded. "Fastest way to travel to the camp. We also won't be needing any guards because it's usually perfectly safe." She made a pause to catch her breath, then continued, "all is looking really well according to Peter. The troops are now settled on Ettinsrock; that's a small chain of hills where the river Shribble springs from, see? Ettinsmore lies just north-east of it … we told you of Ettinsmore, haven't we? It's where most of the giants live."

Medeha nodded. Yes, she knew about that dangerous place. "But is it really safe to make camp so close to the giants' home?"

"Yes, of course! From the plateau on top of Ettinsrock one has a perfect view over the moor. Any giants would be seen long before they would be able to reach it, and it's perfectly defendable." Shaking her head at Medeha's obviously silly question, Lucy added, "Peter knows what he's doing, he has dealt with the threat the Ettins pose for years."

"Oh." Medeha blushed. "I wasn't doubting the High King, Lucy, I assure you."

"I know." Lucy touched the back of her hand amicably and sighed. "You've been so sweet all the time. It's a real pity you have to leave. We all enjoyed your presence … especially Edmund, of course."

Medeha couldn't think of a fitting answer to that and Lucy grinned, adding, "in case he hasn't been very vocal about it, I can still assure you he did. I'm quite sure, he'll soon find a reason for having to travel to Terebinthia."

"Father could just invite him," replied Medeha, hiding a smile and her reddening cheeks behind her hands. "You all, actually, if you can make it. But ..." She hesitated. Something had come to her mind; however, she felt uncomfortable saying it out loud.

"What is it?" Lucy asked.

"Well ... I don't suppose..." With some difficulty she finally overcame her hesitation and willed herself to speak her mind. "I don't suppose there is any possibility that I might travel north with you?"

"Sorry," said Lucy, shaking her head, "we cannot take you along. I don't think your father would appreciate it if we brought you this close to giants."

"But such an adventure it would be!"

Lucy pondered her words for a moment, but then again she shook her head. "We could talk to Su and Ed about this. But I don't think they will agree."

As it turned out they didn't get a chance to talk it through with the other two until dinner. All week Medeha had been invited to take her meals with the three remaining royals and Peridan, who seemed to be seen as part of the family. Usually the atmosphere was reasonably easy and laid back, the three royals and the young lord often teasing each other good-naturedly. But this night it was a little tense, becoming even more so after Medeha had repeated her request to travel north with the sovereigns.

"Peter will personally kill me, if I let you come," said Edmund, but he was looking as though he regretted not being able to take her along with them.

Queen Susan nodded in agreement. "We are responsible for your safety, dear. The ride alone is a little bit tricky; I take it you've never travelled on a griphon's back before?"

"No," Medeha admitted, "but is it difficult?"

"It's fun," said Lucy – and earned a stern look from her older siblings for it. She shrugged. "Why, it is!"

"But riding on a griphon requires some practice," said Queen Susan. She turned to the Terebinthian. "Sorry my dear, but what if you fall off? We cannot take the responsibility for that."

"You won't be missing anything, Medeha," Edmund added. "Narnia's northern border isn't necessarily worth a visit. There's little there that might be interesting."

"The _Hyaline_ is ready to leave any given moment," announced Peridan, who up to that moment, had been listening quietly to their debate. "Would you like me to send word to the captain that he is to set out tomorrow at noon?"

Medeha bit her lip. She was at loss of what else to say to convince the four.

Edmund had said she wouldn't miss anything ... well, maybe not when it came to the landscape, but she would miss her new found friends. On Terebinthia, of course, she had her family and her maid and a few servants, some of whom were not much older than she. But the next village where other people her age lived, was a couple hours' ride away from her father's castle. She rarely got to go there and she never stayed long enough to make friends.

After a little over a week she had become so accustomed to being with the three royals and Lord Peridan she couldn't stand to leave, at least not without knowing when she would see them the next time.

"If I must go home then," she finally said, a little hesitant at first, "I would at least very much like to ask you if –"

She had been planning to suggest they visit her and her family on Terebinthia very soon, but Lucy had suddenly caught hold of her forearm. "Ed, Su – you don't really want to send her home just yet, do you? I know, Peter won't approve, but it can't be such an inconvenience to take her along, can it? I say Medeha shall come."

The two older siblings looked at eachother, then at Lucy and finally at their guest.

Medeha couldn't have said for sure but there seemed to be an air of longing about Edmund, while his elder sister was looking as stern as before.

"Peridan, what do you say?" The king glanced over at the young lord, who raised his hands and shoulders defensively and shook his head.

"Leave me out of this, my king. You know as well as I do, what the most reasonable course of action would be."

"We have a guest, Peridan, and we should show her as much of Narnia as we can," said Lucy, hand still holding on to Medeha's arm.

Queen Susan breathed out a deep sigh, her expression unreadable to Medeha. But her tone was warm and kind when she finally spoke, " _if_ she comes, you had better think of an explanation for it to Peter, Lu."

Lucy beamed, wrapping an arm around Medeha and waving kisses at her older sister.

"Oh Su, how wonderful you agree!"

"So, it seems that's settled then," said Edmund and again, Medeha couldn't be sure about it, but there seemed to be a glint in his eyes, and if she was not mistaken he was suppressing a grin.

X

It was very early in the morning and not just that; it was also still unpleasantly cold. The sun had only just begun to dawn and Medeha felt the moist grass brushing her slipper-clad feet as she jogged, long skirts swinging, towards to the small stream that ran down the slopes of Ettinsrock and, after merging with two other similar streams, flowed towards the eastern sea, known by the Narnians as the river Shribble.

When Medeha had slid quietly out of the tent the two queens had still been asleep. It had been the first night on campaign for the young Terebinthian and despite the fact that King Peter – as expected – had not approved of her presence, she hugely enjoyed being here.

Riding on a griphon's back had been an adventure. _Just imagine it - a griphon_! she thought with a grin to herself, thinking about the face her brother would make when he heard about it.

They had left the castle of Cair Paravel at first light to be able to reach camp before nightfall. On horse it would have been a few day's ride, but a griphon could make it in one. They hadn't stopped all day for a break. Medeha had been given a water tube and a pouch with a bit of bread in it; there had been nothing else to consume until they had arrived, hungry and exhausted.

The camp had been visible from above long before they finally had reached it. Placed in between the cliffs of the small mountain chain called Ettinsrock it had reminded Medeha of a natural fortress, high up between protective rocks and well defendable. Guards were positioned to watch out at every direction, making it safe to stay.

Despite feeling safe, the night had been short and uncomfortable for Medeha. She wasn't used to the discomfort of sleeping in a tent; and she had woken up early, feeling stiff and thirsty.

When she reached the stream, Medeha suddenly stopped in her tracks; down below, knee-deep in the water, stood Narnia's High King, bare-chested and hunched over slightly. He wasn't looking her way, and she felt glad of it. After the spectacular argument between the two king brothers she had accidentally witnessed the night before (herself being the reason for it) Medeha did not wish to be alone in the company of High King Peter.

She was about to turn around when her movement set loose a few pebbles; they tumbled down towards him and made him look up at her.

Contrary to her expectations he smiled kindly when he saw her. "Medeha, good morning."

She simply stared back at him, lost for words. He just had that effect on her, and if asked she couldn't even have explained what made her so timid around him. It was something she couldn't put into words. He was just ... intimidatingly magnificent.

"Medeha, aren't you going to say anything?" His smile had become a grin, an expression which reminded her of his brother.

"So-sorry, High King, I mean ... Your Majesty," she spluttered, carefully avoiding his eyes. "I just wasn't expecting you here, is all."

"No worries," he said. He bent down to dunk a cloth into the water. After wringing it thoroughly, he brought it to his face and rinsed his skin and hair thoroughly.

Medeha became suddenly aware that she would need to wash herself as well at some point. But not now, of course; she most certainly could not just undress in front of the High King, could she?

He waved, signaling for her to join him. "I was going to talk to you anyway, Medeha, would you mind coming down here?"

Carefully as not to fall, she climbed down the little slope towards the water. Curiously, she gathered her skirts up, slipped out of her shoe and dipped her toe into the stream, cautiously. It was horribly cold. Her eyes wandered back to King Peter, who was still busy, now rinsing his bare arms and chest with his wet cloth. She noticed that he was shivering. _Small wonder_ , she thought to herself.

Settled down into the grass by the river side Medeha waited for what the High King would have to say to her. It wasn't long before he spoke. "I take it you already know I don't agree with Edmund bringing you along to this place?"

"So I've heard," she confirmed, thinking about the raging argument the night before.

"It could be dangerous," he added. Obviously done for now with cleaning himself, he waded over and sat in the grass, not even five inches away from her.

Medeha swallowed. Wasn't he going to put on a shirt? She could see that goosebumps had formed on his muscular upper arms. But then she realised that the cloth he had been using probably _was_ his shirt.

He ran a hand through his moist hair. "To tell you the truth, my brother cannot have been thinking straight, when he brought you. You're not trained for this."

"But ... Sire ... please excuse me for asking, but haven't you secured the border?"

"Against giants nothing is ever fully secured," he replied. "They might break through at some point if they set their mind to it. We've all had extensive training and know exactly what to do if it happens. You don't, and you're a liability to Edmund. I don't want either of you to get hurt - or worse."

Medeha was chewing her bottom lip. She felt guilty, the High King had the same arguments as his siblings had had back at Cair Paravel.

When she didn't say anything he continued, "If General Orieus knew Edmund brought you along, he would probably downgrade him to a simple footman." He made a pause, grinning boyishly. "If he could, anyway ... Edmund's still his king, no matter how stupid he may behave at times. Seriously, though, you ought to be on the _Hyaline_ right now, sailing home."

"But it was all my idea! I wanted to come," said Medeha now. "Your brother was objecting just as you are now. It wasn't his mistake."

"Forgive me for being so direct, but my brother is not obliged to fulfill your wishes." Raising both eyebrows, King Peter looked at her questioningly. "If he objected, how come you're here, then?"

She took a deep breath, eyes downcast. "Well ... your royal sister, Queen Lucy ... she sided up with me and she convinced your brother. And Queen Susan."

A hint of a smile appeared on the High King's face. "Sounds like Lucy alright," he mumbled. He pulled his knees to his chest and clasped his hands together on top of them. Medeha saw that he was still shaking a little in the chilly morning air.

"I'd like you to ride right back to Cair Paravel, but I have nobody to send to escort you." King Peter sighed. "All things considered, l guess there is no other solution for it but for you to stay. You might want to stick close to Susan, though; she'll keep away from any danger as best as she can, but if danger finds her, she's quite capable of defending herself. Her arrow never misses."

Medeha nodded, grateful that he allowed her to be around. "Thank you, Your Majesty ... High King Peter."

Shaking his head, he reached out a hand, touching her arm amicably. "From now on, it's just Peter to you," he said, smiling fully now. "I expect we'll be seeing more of each other in the future and, truth to be told, these formalities always get rather tiring to me." He made to get up. "Now I think I shall get back into the warmth of our tent before I catch a cold. Or worse; before I catch a scolding from Susan for sitting here and risking a cold. Come on, I'll escort you to the queens' tent."

She climbed up the slope after him. As they walked back towards the tents Medeha bit her lip, trying to think of a way how to ask the High King about her plans to accompany his brother on his trip to the east, where Edmund was planning to meet up with the clan of hares he was friends with. Next to Lucy, a small party of his soldiers would come along to ensure his safety and the Terebinthian didn't see why she shouldn't be able to go as well.

According to the conversation Medeha had involuntarily overheard the night before, Peter had not been very fond of this idea, either. But he hadn't turned that into another argument. Hopefully he wasn't going to if Medeha expressed her wish to him.

They weren't far from the camp, and Peter strode along beside her at rather a quick pace. Medeha almost had to jog to keep up. If she didn't ask him soon, she wouldn't get a chance. She cleared her throat to gather his attention.

She had to do it twice, the first time not being loud enough. "Peter?"

He turned his head to her but didn't stop walking. "Yes?"

"I was wondering, if I could ask you something."

"Go ahead." Now he did stop, standing before her, arms crossed casually over his chest.

Medeha considered for a moment how to say it, but chose the most straightforward approach. "I would very much like to accompany your brother on his detour to the east – to meet the hares."

He didn't reply at once. She was about to add an explanation, when he held out a hand and spoke before she could. "I thought you might ask me that. That's why I said you should be sticking to Susan, just a moment ago."

It was as she had expected. He wasn't going to let her go.

She was about to nod, when she noticed the now familiar hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "But you shall go, by Aslan's mane ..."

She beamed at him. "Oh, how wonderful!"

He caught her shoulder in an almost painfully tight grip. "... if you promise me that you will not move further away from Edmund and our soldiers than ten yards."

"No worries, I won't!" she promised.

Now the grip on her shoulder softened. "As much as I dislike putting you at the slightest risk, I do have an increasing feeling that your presence is doing my brother some good. Call me egoistic, but I want him to be happy. And I think ... with you around ..." he trailed off.

As they headed on Medeha couldn't help feeling greatly pleased with herself.

XXX

 **A/N:** I love writing Peter from Medeha's POV :) ... hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Please let me know what you think ...


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So ... here we go again ... :) I really do hope you enjoyed this so far! I did enjoy writing it :)

Before we move on to the chapter I would like to say thank you for everyone who has reviewed! I _love_ getting feedback ... it makes writing so much easier!

As all the other chapters of this story, I had this one looked over by _**Lydwina Marie**_ – thank you so much for taking the time to do this! I hugely appreciate it :)

XXX

It was still relatively dark outside when Lucy shook Medeha's shoulder gently and was rewarded with a quietly mumbled, "five more minutes, Fee ..."

Wondering who Fee might be and settling for the explanation that she was probably the young lady's maid, Lucy snickered softly. "It's Lucy," she whispered, tugging tenderly on the Terebinthian's woolen blanket. "I came to wake you. If you want to join Edmund and me today, you must be ready in ten minutes."

Groggily the Terebinthian sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Lucy! Sorry … I dreamt I was … well, never mind…" She stifled a yawn and disentangled herself from the covers. "We're leaving in ten minutes? Oh dear."

If truth be told Lucy didn't really expect that they were to depart on time although she had made Medeha think they would. In fact, she would have bet on the Lion's mane that her brother was not yet up and about, either. But Edmund surprised her; the moment Lucy stepped outside, huddled in a thick cloak against the early morning chill, he came towards her with long and surprisingly energetic strides.

"Ready to leave, Lu?" he asked.

She gave him a nod and a thorough lookover in the faint light of the torch he held; he was looking tired and his dark hair was still mussed up, sticking out at the back of his head (the same way she often saw on Peter when had just got up). He needed a shave, too; the dark three day old stubble gave him a rather unkempt look and made him look paler than he actually was.

"Won't we wait for Medeha? She'll be only a few more minutes," said Lucy.

Edmund shrugged, looking a little anxious. "We should, shouldn't we? If she's really going to join us?" He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "I still can't believe Pete's agreed to letting her," he added. "Must have had screw loose when he decided it, the old dafty."

He handed Lucy a water skin, already filled for the journey, and went off to get one more for Medeha. Lucy grinned. _One should think he would be happy about Peter's decision_ , she mused.

A moment later Medeha emerged from the queens' tent and Lucy certainly didn't miss how her brother's expression lit up at the sight of her when he came back from their storage tent. Next to provisions, Edmund handed Medeha a bow and a couple of arrows (only a formality; she wouldn't have to use them) then he guided her to Gusko, the head griphon - and safest to ride - and helped her onto his back.

Just a few moments later, six griphons set off eastward; for safety reasons the two royals and their friend were escorted by three human soldiers: Cescian, a young man originating from a land beyond the mountains to the west, and Esther and Elsbeth; both highly trained shieldmaidens from Archenland.

Only Cescian was actually Edmund's soldier, while both Esther and Elsbeth usually served in Peter's army division. But only humans could or would ride on a griphon's back, and Edmund's troops happened to consist of almost only non-human soldiers. So Peter had been so gracious as to lend his younger brother his captain and her second for this trip - not that it had taken much to convince the High King, of course.

The ride took a little over two hours. Below them the river Shribble wound its way eastward towards the sea, passing through dull the marshes that defined most of the landscape here. Edmund had been right, telling Medeha that there was little here worth to be seen. But Lucy enjoyed the ride anyway; the cool wind in her hair, the speed at which they flew. There was little she liked better than flying on a griphon's back.

Too soon, it seemed to her, they reached the moor where the hares lived, just south of the river Shribble, and as they flew across it for a while, Lucy began to wonder. Just how Edmund was to find the best spot where to meet his friends, she could not have said or understood. Every bit of this area looked the same. When they finally landed Lucy could not see anything of interest but a small hole in the ground.

Through the help of the swallow Windbeater Edmund had sent word ahead to the hares, announcing his upcoming visit, but Lucy didn't see anyone waiting for them. She looked over at her brother. Edmund stood a few feet away from her, hands on hips, regarding the entrance to the tunnel pensively; probably lost in memories of his adventure here nine years ago. It was just when Lucy was about to open her mouth and say something, that Edmund seemed to have snapped out of his reverie. He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled.

Soon, a long-eared head popped out of the hole. Upon seeing the king the hare hopped out of the hole with a grace and energy that belied the fact that he must be quite old by now (for a hare anyway) and exclaimed, "why, your Majesty! You came! What joy for an old hare such as me!"

Lucy had never seen a hare become this excited, especially not an elderly one. The animal's long ears were twitching as he bounced up and down at the sight of Lucy's older brother, who was standing in front of the hole, grinning goofily.

"Lennox, it's good to see you!"

"And you, your Majesty!" Lennox cheered on. "It's been too long! And just _look_ at how much you've _grown_! You've gotten so _big_! I should not have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes!"

Lucy nearly snorted when she saw Edmund's smug expression at Lennox' words. Yes, her brother _had_ grown since the last time he had had a chance to make time for a visit to these friends of his. One would think he had, what with the last time the hare had seen him he had been thirteen ... There was certainly no reason for putting up such a fuss at the realisation!

"I can't believe I once fitted through that hole there," mumbled Edmund as he pointed at the cave entrance he had once had to crawl through to save his life all those years ago.

 _Small wonder he did_ , thought Lucy, remembering very well the scrawny, slight boy he had been at the age of eleven. Looking back and comparing that boy to the young man he was now, it suddenly seemed unbelievable that he had been on that quest all by himself back then! What had Peter been thinking, sending him?

"It was your luck you were so small, Majesty," agreed Lennox, still unable to hold still. "Otherwise those giants might have caught you."

At this Lucy felt uneasy. She glanced over at her brother and saw that he, too, looked apprehensive at the mention of giants. Gladly, there was no obvious sign of destruction here, but Lucy knew that there were many exits to the system of caves the hares called their home. The giants might have found another one to attack.

She was about to ask, but Edmund was faster. "Say, Lennox, is everything alright with you and your family? We've been made aware of several giants raids near the border … and I was thoroughly worried."

"His Majesty is very kind to think about us," said Lennox. He stopped bouncing and became serious. " I won't lie … we weren't spared of losses. My second degree cousin, Otto, and his beloved mate, Gitta, unfortunately fell prey to the attack." Lennox' ears were no longer twitching now, and he hung his head, looking sad.

Lucy could see that her brother had balled his hands into fists. "And what about Maddox, your brother?"

"Maddox has passed away just before the winter set in."

"Oh …"

"Don't worry, your Majesty, he died a peaceful death. He was old, he'd had a good life." The hare regarded his king affectionately for a moment, then added, "shall we make ourselves a little more comfortable?"

They all sat on the ground and Lennox offered them tea and some funny looking carrot cake along with it. Never a fan of carrots, Edmund only managed one piece of cake while Medeha and Lucy both accepted second helpings. They talked about how they had been over the past years and while they did so Lennox kept giving Medeha curious glances. Lucy would have liked to hint at the lady's interest in Narnia's young king, but feared her brother's wrath and therefore refrained from it. It would have made the young lady insanely uncomfortable anyway, she reminded herself.

Throughout the day, many more hares came to join them, all eager to get a glimpse of their now grown-up king and - as it turned out - curious to see Narnia's Valiant Queen as well. Word of her accompanying her brother must have spread quickly among them. Lucy could barely stop smiling at all the compliments she received.

When it was time to leave several hours later, Edmund informed the hares, "as Windbeater might have told you; we are gathering Narnians from everywhere along the border for a memorial to honor those who were lost this winter. I was wondering, Lennox, if you and your family wanted to join us, seeing as you've lost someone as well."

"We'd love to join, your Majesty," agreed the hare. "Will you be holding a speech?"

Rolling his eyes Edmund laughed. "If my brother's speech hasn't bored everyone to death before I get to say anything ..."

"Edmund!" Lucy nudged her brother hard in the ribs. "And in front of our subjects as well!"

They all shared a laugh before it was finally time to say goodbye. Gladly they would be seeing each other again soon, at the memorial.

They were halfway back to the camp when there was a noticeable change in weather. The wind picked up, forcing the griphons to fly a lot lower than the party would have liked to. The sky became overcast and Lucy noticed that Gusko was speeding up more and more, probably afraid to be caught up in a storm if they didn't make it back soon.

Lucy didn't like the fact that they were flying at such little height. But she told herself to remain calm; it wasn't far anymore. Already they were just above the tree tops of the thick conifer forest that grew at the bottom of Ettinsrock on the Narnian side, where the mountain chain was less steep.

A flash of lightning suddenly ripped through the sky, followed all too soon by a deafening roll of thunder. A moment later the rain set in.

Lucy pulled the hood of her cloak deep into her face and ducked her head lower, hands gripping the griphon's neck feathers tightly.

Another crack of thunder rolled over them, lightning announcing it less than a second before the noise. Lucy knew well that the short period of time between those two meant that they were right inside the storm. The rain increased.

Then Atok, the griphon she was riding on, suddenly changed directions in such a quick harsh manner Lucy almost fell off.

A small rock swished by them.

 _A rock_?

Lucy tightened her grip on Atok's neck once more when she realised what it meant. A giant. It must have seen them flying low over the treetops. Now it was trying to wipe them out of the sky throwing rocks.

A furious roar right beneath Lucy confirmed her suspicion. Along with it came another rock, this time aimed at Gusko.

 _Oh no! Medeha!_ Lucy clutched her hand over her mouth, watching with wide eyes as Gusko evaded the rock, and, unable to hold on to the violently shifting griphon's back, Medeha fell.

X

The thick branches of a tree broke her fall in a much less hurtful way than the hard forest ground would have done. Her heart was thumping in her chest.

After Medeha had caught her breath, she carefully moved arms and legs. Nothing seemed broken or even strained, the treetop had kept her safe from crashing to the ground. She took a look around, assessing her situation, while listening carefully. Where were the others? Where was their attacker?

Knowing she couldn't stay here up in the tree, she cautiously scrambled down branch by branch until she finally reached the ground safely. Again she carefully took in her surroundings; she stood in midst of a forest of tall, thick conifers; the chances to be found by the others from above were slim at best.

Trying to get orientation and sort out which way to go Medeha finally started to move. She would have to make it up to King Peter's camp on foot. But it wasn't an easy task. The trees stood narrowly and there were fallen ones in between, some of which she saw no way to climb over or crawl underneath, forcing her to make great detours. All along she couldn't help thinking about the fact that the giant might still be very near. What if it found her? There would be no chance to run away from it; it was bound to be able to move much faster through the woods, what with being able to push aside any obstacles with its giant strength.

 _Well, at least I'm armed,_ she reminded herself. But what did it help if she was not very adept yet at using a bow?

Cautiously Medeha wound herself through the undergrowth. She got stuck in between the pointy branches more than once. But then she finally reached a small path leading uphill and Medeha sighed in relief when walking became much easier.

Her relief wasn't long-lived, though. A roar suddenly erupted from very close by, followed by a voice Medeha had come very familiar with over the past few days.

 _Edmund_!

The giant, however, came into sight first. Over twenty feet tall and bad-tempered it pushed away the trees on either side of it with ease. Its beady eyes were fixed on Medeha and the young Terebinthian found herself rooted to spot and paralysed with fear.

"Medeha! Get away from there!"

But Edmund's frantic voice barely reached her conscious mind. All she could do was stand where she was and watch as the giant lifted its arm, club firmly in hand –

"Medeha! _Noooo_!"

The giant swung its club just the same moment Medeha felt herself being knocked off her feet by Edmund, who had thrown himself at her to get her out of harm's way.

" _Oof_..."

They both tumbled to the ground and down the narrow path where they finally came to lie in the dirt, their limbs entangled with each other. Medeha was out of breath, her pulse up to double speed, and head was hurting slightly from where she had hit it on a tree trunk.

Edmund was likewise shaken; his breath was coming in short labored gasps and he looked flushed. He propped himself up on one arm, and looked at her for a second, then scrambled to his feet with enviable agility. He grabbed her by her arm and hauled her up, too. The giant was still hovering above them, getting ready to take aim with its club a second time.

"Edmund!"

They both turned around. Lucy stood a couple of yards away, aiming an arrow at the giant. It had not yet seen her; instead it now seemed adamant to eliminate Edmund. It must have realised that Medeha was a negligible threat for it while Edmund had his sword drawn by now and was quite ably putting it to use. Swinging its club at nothing but thin air a moment ago, had put the giant off balance; giving the king enough time to slice a deep ugly cut into its leg. Roaring with the unexpected pain the giant finally raised its arm once more.

Medeha simply stood still and watched, still unable to move, sweat running into her eyes even in the cold of the spring evening – or was it the rain that still came down steadily?

"Oi!" cried Lucy now, finally making the giant notice her. "Yes, I mean you – you fat old brute! Get away from my brother!"

It worked; with another malicious roar, the giant now went for Lucy.

Several arrows hit it, but none was even close to being mortal. Instead they only served to make the brute angrier than before. Reaching Lucy, it swung its club again, this time at Narnia's Valiant Queen, and Medeha could see that the young woman was hit very badly in the head. The giant hit again making the young woman tumble over where she came to lie on the ground, very still.

"You ... _monster_!" raged Edmund beside Medeha and she was almost a little surprised for a moment at his choice of words, but then a lengthy addition of rather undignified curses followed. Medeha would have smiled if not the situation had been so grave.

Next to her, Narnia's Just King was holding his sword with both hands now, and she could see his chest heaving with exertion and hardly suppressed fury. He crossed the distance between himself and their enemy with a bone-thrilling cry of anger.

What happened then Medeha witnessed as if in slow motion; the giant raised the club once more, eyes still fixed on Lucy. But Edmund came just in time to prevent the hit that probably would have meant his sister's death. He shoved his sword deep into the giant's fat side, until only the hilt remained visible. The scream was deafening as the brute sank to its knees. Grabbing for the sword, stuck in its flesh, it turned around itself for a couple of times, and Medeha was sure it would soon topple over and be done with.

Instead, however, it suddenly seemed to realise that the human standing next to it, trying to catching his breath, was now unarmed. The giant gave up on trying to reach the sword and balled its enormous hand into a fist which he rammed into the Edmund's side with such force Medeha thought it would be a wonder if it didn't break any bones. Edmund tumbled backwards a few steps and fell, his face contorted in pain. The giant yelled something and crawled after him.

 _Lion's Grace and Lion's Gift_ , Medeha thought, reaching for her own bow. She had the arrow on the string and was aiming it before she even understood what she was doing. _Edmund ... the giant's going to crush him_.

A split second later her arrow was swishing through the air - right into the giant's eye, causing it to howl frightfully. Another arrow was on its way already, this time tearing into the brute's neck. Blood shot out of the wound, the amount of it making Medeha want to gag. Edmund, back on his feet and standing next to the beast, was already sprinkled with its blood. But the brute went down, finally beaten.

Only then Medeha realised that she had just killed a giant. Her shaking hands were still clutching the bow; slowly, she let them sink down.

Along the path Edmund had bent over the lifeless form of his sister. When Medeha came closer she saw that Lucy had fallen into a bush, its thorns had ripped both, the fabric of her garments and the skin of her bared forearms. She looked a mess.

 _Don't let her be dead_ , Medeha prayed silently. _Please, don't let her be dead …_

X

TBC ...

 **A/N:** As mentioned before: if you're interested in reading about Edmund's first meeting with Lennox and his family, please read my story _**The King's Quest**_. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Hi guys … before I move on to the chapter there's one thing I'd like to ask … are you enjoying this so far? If so I'd really **_really_ ** appreciate your feedback.

I'm bringing this up because I always put a lot of effort into my writing (and so does my beta-reader, by the way, **lovely _Lydwina Marie_** ), and I would very _**very** _ much appreciate you just taking the half-a-minute's time to type your name and comment into the review box down at the bottom… I want to know if this is being read (because otherwise there'd be no point in posting it, is there?)

Thank you so much and now on to the hopefully enjoyable chapter!

Cheers!

XXX

Medeha knelt down beside Edmund and watched silently as he searched through his sister's clothes for something. Despite the chill of the evening, his face was flushed and sweaty and his breathing was still labored.

"By Aslan, Lucy, where did you put it?" he muttered. Finally he sat back on his heels and looked at Medeha.

"We need to get her and us back to the camp," she said urgently, but he shook his head.

"No ... it must be here _somewhere_."

"What?"

"Her healing cordial. She needs a drop of her cordial! Look what the brute did to her ... she won't survive without the cordial."

Medeha instantly understood. The giant had bashed Lucy's head in; she was bleeding heavily and there was no telling if there was damage to her brain as well. They searched for the cordial. When it was clear that it wasn't in Lucy's pockets, they started crawling across the dirty, muddy forest soil on all fours.

Unexpectedly a voice interrupted their search. "Sire!"

Medeha looked up to find Esther, King Peter's army captain, coming towards them, wet hair plastered to her head, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Esther, please help us find the cordial. Lucy is gravely wounded and -"

But Esther shook her head. "Sire … my lady … we need to hurry, more giants are passing along nearby. They might be looking for this one." She pointed at the dead giant.

"But Lucy -"

In her anxiety the wiry young woman strode forward and caught Edmund's arm in a painfully tight looking grip, hugely overstepping her boundaries by doing so, but clearly not caring. "I'm sorry King Edmund, but there's really no time! We need to get away."

"Let's do as she says, Edmund," Medeha urged and got to her feet. "Lucy needs a healer."

Finally, he saw sense and nodded grimly. With some difficulty he stood and, wincing with the effort, he picked up his younger sister, draping her over his shoulder in a rather undignified way which did not befit a queen. However, it seemed the only way he seemed able to carry her back to the camp.

Lucy was, despite her height and her wiry, muscled built, probably quite a lightweight; under different circumstances Medeha was sure that her brother could have carried her with much more ease. But they were headed uphill, the path was narrow and uneven and Edmund was exhausted from a long day and their encounter with the giant; he stumbled a couple of times along the way and once or twice he even came close to falling over. Medeha thought he must be running high on adrenaline to be able to carry at all right now.

After a while Esther offered him to take over the burden of carrying Lucy, saying that she was in better shape. Indeed, she had not taken part in the fight against the giant, thanks to the fact that Edmund had decided to split up the party in their search for Medeha. But at the captain's offer the King merely glared at her and declined, his tone harsher than it should have been.

Lucky for them the cavalry was on its way already, meeting them halfway on their way to the camp, Peter striding along in the lead, accompanied by a massive centaur; Castor, Medeha believed his name was.

Peter looked furious, more so than Medeha had seen him before in the past days and she had already seen him very furious. The High King pushed away the arms Castor had offered and took his youngest sister from his brother's arms. "Get yourself looked over by the healer when we're in the camp," he roared at Edmund and Medeha and turned, carrying the Queen for the rest of the way.

Edmund turned to Medeha, looking worried. "Sorry for not having asked you sooner." He lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Just a few scratches ..."

He nodded, a little relieved. "Good. Let's go with Peter then, I need to know what's going to happen with Lucy." He gave Medeha another anxious look. "Although I really don't know how we can help her without the cordial."

Gladly it soon turned out that the healing cordial was not lost, but in the rush of the morning departure, Lucy had left it behind in the camp. As soon as they reached the camp, Queen Susan came running towards them, clutching a tiny flask in her hand. Peter knelt as soon as the Gentle Queen had reached them, tenderly lowering Lucy to the ground, making it possible for his other sister to feed her a drop of the magic liquid.

Soon after this the Valiant Queen regained consciousness, looking pale and weak, but alive. The bleeding stopped and the wounds disappeared, albeit slowly. As soon as he had seen this, Edmund sighed deeply in relief.

While Peter and Susan got their youngest sister settled in the queens' tent Edmund and Medeha found themselves a place by the fire, where they sat and waited for their pulses to finally slow down. One of the soldiers gave them each a blanket. The rain had stopped but they were both still soaked and dirty. But with the woolen blanket around her shoulders Medeha soon started to feel a little more comfortable.

Peter joined them after a while, handing out a ration of bread, dried meat and a pastry to each. It seemed that his anger had subsided and he looked merely tired, as he sat next to Medeha and started chewing on his dinner. "Silly Lu. Thank Aslan she's finally resting. Susan's with her. But how could she have left the cordial behind? We're dealing with giants here, no less!"

Then his expression suddenly turned guilty, blue eyes looking dark and troubled as they met with Medeha's. "I'm so sorry this happened. I shouldn't have let you go with Edmund and Lucy. I _knew_ it might be dangerous." Anxiously, he raked a hand through his hair, messing it up in the process, and added, "I shall write a letter to your family the instant I am back at Cair Paravel. Apologize for my lack of judgement."

Medeha shook her head. "Oh no, please don't do that!" she pleaded. "Father would be out of his mind ... he might never let me visit Narnia ever again." _And that_ , she thought, glancing over at Edmund, _would be quite clearly the worst thing that could happen_.

Peter frowned. "What if he hears about it through another source? How could he ever trust me again?"

"I say, Pete, you're no more to blame than I am," Edmund joined the conversation. Medeha noticed that he looked very pale and slightly sweaty, although the excitement of their fight and its aftermath should have subsided by now. "Or Lucy. Or even Susan, actually. We all agreed on letting her come here. And today you put her in _my_ care. _I_ am the one who failed to protect her."

"You did not," protested Medeha, reaching out a hand to touch his arm softly. "I'm here and alive, aren't I?"

"Medeha, we need to tell your parents what happened," Peter insisted, then glanced at his brother, eyebrows drawn together. "Are you alright, Ed? You seem unwell."

"I'm fine," said Edmund, although he was not looking it. "Just a little tired, is all. It's been a long day."

"Go, get some sleep then." Peter suggested.

"We should all do that," Edmund agreed, slowly rising to his feet. "It's late." The moment he stood, however, he began to sway.

Wide-eyed and in shock, Medeha watched him sink to his knees, both arms clutching his right side.

"Oh no …" Suddenly, the Terebinthian remembered the giant fist that had crushed into Edmund's side earlier; over worrying about Lucy and if they would make it back to the camp in time, she had forgotten all about that incident until now.

Next to Medeha, Peter was quite alarmed at the sight of his brother, on his knees and white as a sheet. Before Medeha could say or do anything, the High King was at his Edmund's side. Muttering curses under his breath, Peter unbuckled his brother's belt so he could push the fabric of Edmund's tunic out of the way and bare his lower abdomen.

Medeha gasped at the sight. Deeply dark, almost black looking bruises covered the otherwise fair skin. Peter instantly started scolding his brother.

"Why didn't you say anything? I already told you to get yourself looked at by the healer! There could be some internal bleeding! Why, it's quite likely actually by the looks of this ... and you must have been in pain." He shook his head. "Medeha, go and get the cordial from Lucy, please."

She nodded and made to hurry. Behind her, she heard the High King say in a much gentler voice, "Let's get you settled, Ed."

Looking over her shoulder Medeha saw that the two king brothers were progressing slowly towards their tent, the younger leaning heavily on the older's shoulder.

Inside the queens' tent she found Lucy sitting upright and surprisingly alert, if still rather white-faced.

"Lucy, please … where's your cordial now?" Medeha asked nervously.

The Valiant Queen handed her the tiny flask looking worried at once. "It's Ed, isn't it?" she asked.

Medeha confirmed with a nod. "Yes, but Peter and I will take care of him. You should rest. Don't worry, the cordial will probably make him good as new in a moment … just as it did with you." The last bit she had only added because next to Lucy a concerned looking Queen Susan had risen to her feet, obviously unsure if she should see to her brother's or her sister's needs.

In the kings' tent Peter was trying to get his brother to settle down but there seemed to be no position that was comfortable for him. He shifted this way and that, barely seeming to notice that Medeha had returned. The young lady acted without thinking; otherwise she probably would not have dared doing what she did now. She sat on the cot and pulled him close until his head finally came to rest in her lap. Then she unscrewed the flask holding the precious healing cordial and poured a drop into his half-open mouth.

Soon after that the pain-induced tension in his body eased and he let out a deep sigh. She was almost sure that he would be up and about in another minute, but exhaustion seemed to have taken the better of him and he remained lying where he was, his still head in her lap. A moment later his breaths evened out, telling Medeha that he had fallen asleep.

She raised her head and met Peter's eyes.

The High King looked back at her, hands on hips, eyebrows raised. "Why, _that_ is definitely something new," he finally commented in a dry tone. Then he knelt down and reached for the hem of his brother's tunic to get another look at Edmund's hurt side.

It didn't look nearly as bad as it had - the bruises were still there, stretching from his pelvic bone up to his ribcage and all the way across the right side of his stomach, but they were no longer looking as deeply black and dangerous as they had only a few minutes ago.

Peter gave a satisfied nod and put his brother's clothes back into place. Then he lay his hand on Medeha's shoulder.

"I think we should let him sleep for a while. I'll go and see how Lucy is faring."

"Do … do you mind if I stay here ... with him for a bit?"

Peter threw back his head, laughing heartily. "No," he said, casting the sleeping figure before him an affectionate look. "No, not at all." He pointed at his own cot. "Stay all night if you want ... tomorrow evening is the memorial, it will need us all well rested. And I do have a feeling your presence might make the imp sleep much better than he ever could with me snoring away across the tent." Still laughing he left.

Medeha smiled silently to herself as she ran a gentle hand over the dark-haired head in her lap. Edmund was still out of it and she suddenly became aware of how intimate the situation was.

Time passed and Medeha soon became very tired herself. It had been the most peculiar but also demanding day. She had fallen from a griphon's back, miraculously without being hurt safe for a few superficial scratches, and she had killed a giant.

A giant.

A girl should be tired after a day like this … But the very moment she started shifting to get more comfortable, careful though she was, she felt Edmund move.

A moment later he sat up, blinking at her in surprise when he realised in what position he had slept.

"Sorry," he said finally, running a hard through his unruly hair, "for falling asleep on you. Literally."

"It wasn't much of an inconvenience," Medeha replied. She wanted to tell him that he was quite lovely when he was asleep, but didn't dare say it. "Your brother thought it was a little funny, though."

"Peter saw this?" Edmund's eyes became wide. "Oh dear. I'm in for some teasing then."

"Is there a special lady in your brother's life?" she asked curiously before she managed to stop herself. It was a silly, girlish thing to ask, and it was actually really none of her business.

But Edmund looked quite amused at the question. "Oh, there is ... she's called Narnia." After that he sobered visibly and became very serious. "Same for me, actually. I mean... usually ..." He blushed a little. "Anyway, I've been thinking … well … there is something about me you should know …"

Medeha had never seen him look graver than he was in this particular moment. She nodded respectfully, looking into his dark eyes, thinking that they were beautiful, especially now, with that sudden air of sadness about them.

He started pulling off his tunic and the shirt he wore underneath. "Before we talk, I need you to see something."

She felt herself blush when he also pushed down the waistband of his breeches a bit. Then she saw it; there was a scar on his lower abdomen, a little to the left, just a above the hipbone. Next to that the bruises he had received from their encounter with the giant had faded further thanks to the magic cordial. But that scar, it looked raw and dangerous, painful and - if she was fully honest - quite ugly.

Something told her, that it was an old scar, even if it seemed as fresh as if the wound that had caused it had been brought on only a couple of weeks ago.

Shyly, she let her eyes travel across his shirtless body. There were other scars, she noticed, but most of them were pale and faded. All in all, if one was to ask her, he had the body of a soldier, not of a king - tough and wiry and marked with the remains of battle wounds. Medeha had always thought that kings may command their armies but but had men enough to fight for them. But as it seemed, Narnia's kings were used to fighting their battles themselves.

Her eyes travelled back to his scar and seeing her look at it he subconsciously moved his hand there, half-covering it.

"I don't usually like people seeing it," he admitted, voice very low. "Although, of course, it cannot always be helped."

"Where does come from?" she asked.

He grimaced, not quite meeting her eyes as he began to explain, "the story behind it is as ugly as the scar itself. It's a reminder of the guilt I carry."

Tentatively she stretched out a hand, brushing his softly. "Tell me about it."

"Don't say you haven't heard," he replied, "about what happened before we became the kings and queens of Narnia."

But she hadn't. Terebinthia had only really reconnected with Narnia about a month into the new kings' and queens' reign. And even if her father knew what Edmund was talking about, he had never told his children.

She looked up at the king expectantly, her expression silently pleading for him to tell her everything.

"I was a traitor," he said. "I betrayed my own family to the White Witch, because she promised me that I could rule over them. It was is a beastly thing to do, but I was young and stupid and very naive. I was also very much at odds with Peter. It was too late when I realised that in truth she just wanted to kill us all."

Medeha's eyes went big. "What happened then?" she gasped.

A warm glow suddenly seemed to erupt from him. "Aslan. He saved me. In every sense of the word." He reached for his undershirt and pulled it back on. "I might have been killed by the witch's dagger, if his soldiers had not brought me away from her. Or else I might have been torn apart by my own guilt afterwards, if he hadn't expressed his love and forgiveness to me." Unconsciously his hand had moved back to where the scar was, now covered by the thin fabric of his shirt. Medeha nodded towards it.

"It looks still painful," she said.

He didn't answer right away but then he nodded hesitantly. "It kind of still hurts, yes, but only when I think about it. Aslan said the wound was magical ... it was caused by the broken end of her wand, so I guess it's to be expected. Even Lucy's cordial could never fully heal it."

There was a long moment of silence between them but Medeha didn't find it uncomfortable. Instead she began to feel a lot closer to him. She thought back at something Lucy had said to her, back at the castle.

"Don't expect Edmund to open up to you the way you would open up to him. But he will let you in at some point. Just in his own way and at his own time."

The moment that lay just behind them had already been most intimate and it had come much sooner than she had expected. She carefully touched his hand and as soon as she made contact, he pulled her closer to him.

With his arm around her shoulders they sat together on his the for another long while, enjoying each other's silent comfort until they finally fell asleep huddled up closely.

XXX

 **A/N:** Sooo ... what do you think ...?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Here's chapter eight ... a little shorter this time. Sorry :)

 _ **Lydwina Marie**_ did an awesome job at betaing this once again. Thank you!

And of course many many thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's so good to know that you're reading and enjoying the story so far!

XXX

It was still early when Edmund woke. His cot felt unfamiliarly crowded and a warm body was pressed up against his. His right arm was cramped, lying underneath the other body and he sleepily moved it a little to get more comfortable. Then his hand tangled in long, soft hair.

 _Medeha_.

She was still fast asleep, and no wonder; what a day she had had! First falling off Gusko's back, then their encounter with the giant – and it was all new to Medeha. She had never been in such danger ever before.

Thank Aslan she had remained relatively unharmed.

Just then he felt her shift and snuggle a little more tightly against him, and he smiled silently into the semi-darkness.

How did they get here?

He remembered their first meeting, not even two weeks ago. How intriguing he had found her. How genuinely kind and warm she had been towards him. How curious she had been to meet Peter. And Lucy, of course.

How come she had ended up here, on _his_ cot?

How come he had _let_ her?

Suddenly steps were audible outside the tent and, a moment later, Peter stuck his head in.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he said distractedly. "Another two giants have been seen south of the border, and we need to take care of that before tonight. I need everyone who is capable of wielding a sword." He turned to go but then he suddenly stopped and slipped into the tent completely. His eyes widened and a hint of amusement touched his lips, while he blinked in surprise at the sight of his brother squashed up against Medeha on one single narrow cot.

Carefully, as to not wake the young lady, Edmund sat up. It was only then that he realised he had slept in his now rumpled tunic and breeches. He got up and – making Peter grin from ear to ear – quietly pulled the thick woolen blanket back in place to cover Medeha.

While he discarded yesterday's worn and dirty clothes in favor of something clean and warm, Edmund did his best to avoid eye contact with his brother. He pulled a leather doublet over his long-sleeved cotton shirt and grabbed a warm cloak to don on top.

While fastening the cloak he caught sight of Peter's broad grin after all. "What?" he demanded. Voice barely above a whisper, it came out as more of a hiss.

"Nothing," said Peter, biting his lip the way he usually did when he was trying hard to suppress a laugh. The expression made him look ten years younger and usually Edmund appreciated his brother's merriment. Not this time.

When Edmund passed by him on his way out of the tent, the High King clapped a hand on his younger brother's upper back, padding his shoulder amicably. Edmund ignored it and stalked outside, where he stretched his cramped limbs and breathed in the cool crisp air, attempting to chase away his early morning sleepiness.

The sun was halfway up and the camp was already animated with soldiers getting ready to face the giants. A few steps away from Edmund, Susan was busy by the fire, probably cooking breakfast. When she saw her younger brother, she waved at him, relief showing on her face as she registered that – thanks to Lucy's cordial – he was perfectly hale once again.

Behind Edmund, Peter had slipped out of the tent as well, amusement still plastered all over his face. Here, outside and out of earshot from sleeping Medeha, Edmund dared to speak louder. He turned towards his brother, and did his best to glare. "What on earth are you grinning at?"

"Nothing," said Peter, still biting his lip.

Edmund decided that it might be best to ignore him. He shifted and pretended to busy himself by adjusting his sword belt. But out of the corner of his eye he still saw that cheeky smile. The High King of Narnia simply wouldn't be ignored. Finally Edmund gave in with a sigh. "Fine. Say what you have to say, Peter."

His brother chuckled. "Oh come on, Ed. It's nothing really. Just … well, I am not used to you … well, reacting so strongly to a girl." He stopped, then corrected himself, " _lady_. To a lady. But I am happy for you. Whatever there's going on between you two."

"What do you mean, going on between us?"

" _Really_ now, Edmund?"

Frowning, Edmund crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, I'll take it back. Do not say what's on your mind. Let's just concentrate on the giants, shall we?"

"Of course," replied Peter. "The giants." Now he became serious and with a sigh his expression changed from amused to a rather dark look. "I gave out orders to not harm them – if possible. I'm afraid you killing one of them yesterday angered the lot and according to the guards they've been laying siege to Ettinsrock ever since. I think we need get this settled very quickly without killing more."

Raising an eyebrow, Edmund conceded, "So it's words today instead of blades then, brother?"

"For as long as we can afford, yes. But I still want every available soldier, armed to the teeth and ready to use their blades in case words won't help."

Edmund nodded grimly. "Alright. You know you can count on me." He hesitated for a short moment, then added, "I just need to ... er, leave a note. For Medeha. She'll be wondering where I am."

And with these words he walked straight past Peter and back into the tent, avoiding eye contact once more and hoping that Peter hadn't seen the color that had crept into his cheeks. Quickly, he rummaged through the luggage he had brought to find a quill and some parchment.

When his eyes fell on the sleeping girl he couldn't stop the smile that forced its way onto his face at the sight of her. She was so lovely.

With a low snort Edmund dismissed all of his former restraint. Should Peter laugh all he wanted, there was no denying this. He liked Medeha, he really did. Maybe he even loved her.

At least he wanted to be with her. Keep her safe, like he wanted to keep his sisters safe. And that meant he had to do everything he could to help drive those darn giants out of Narnia.

 _Now_.

X

Medeha woke to the silence of an empty tent, but a small piece of parchment was laid out for her, filled with a couple of lines of tinily scribbled words.

 _Had to leave early._

 _Preparations to be done. Borders to be secured yet again! _

_Two more giants sighted on the Narnian side this morning (Peter's such a dolt, I'll see to it myself this time)._

 _Sleep as long as you want, then find Susan. Stick by her side today._

 _Don't want to see you get hurt._

 _Edmund_

Medeha giggled and rolled over on the cot. It took her another five minutes before she was finally ready to leave the cosiness of her woolen covers. As she sat up she realised that she had slept in yesterday's travelling attire. She got to her feet and struggled out of her clothes. As she did so she became uncomfortably aware of the many scratches she had received from her fall and the tour through the woods the previous day, some of which were still a little quite sore.

She did as Edmund had suggested and went to find Queen Susan, who was busy inspecting the large rock on which she and her siblings would stand and speak to their subjects that evening. When the queen saw her she waved and approached to greet Medeha.

"Good morning, dear," she said and put an arm around Medeha's shoulders. "You slept long, but by the looks of it, you needed it. Did you get some breakfast yet?"

"No, your Majesty."

Susan laughed. "Oh, but dearie, you really don't have to address me like that. Not anymore, anyway. Call me Susan – as you call my siblings just by their given names, too."

Medeha nodded while she let herself be led to the fireplace where she was gently ordered to sit, and given a small mug of hot tea. She inquired after Lucy's state of health and was told that the lovely Valiant Queen was still on the mend, resting peacefully in her tent and expected to be fit by that evening.

After supplying Medeha with food, Susan sat down next to her and, a mug of tea in own hands, asked, "Whatever did you do with my brother last night?"

Medeha blushed. "I … er, I don't know what you mean … it was nothing dishonorable, if you that's what you think -"

Susan nudged her softly. "No, silly. I don't think _that_! But whatever it was you did, do it again – and soon." She giggled girlishly. "I never saw him in such a delightful mood just after waking up. Though, of course, he tried to hide it. But I'm not as blind as he seems to think I am. I noticed."

"Oh …" Medeha blushed even more. "Didn't know I had … such an influence."

Susan touched her hand briefly and bent close. "You're doing him a world of good, dear. And you wouldn't believe how happy it makes me. Things with Edmund aren't always easy, you know?"

"He hinted at something like that when we talked last night," Medeha confirmed. "And I already got a taste of it myself as well."

Susan nodded looking down at her hands as she folded them in her lap. "He can be a handful. He always was, really – since he was little," she explained, carefully avoiding the soldiers around them to hear her words. "A sum of contradictions. Loud and boisterous one minute, grave and all closed up the next."

"I noticed."

Susan nodded. "Yes, I know. And I am sorry you had to. But then, that's just how he is. Though it used to be much worse. He's grown up a lot since he was crowned."

"He was crowned at the age of ten, wasn't he?"

"True." Queen Susan nodded. "However, it very nearly never came to that because -" she suddenly blushed and interrupted herself. "That is actually his story to tell, not mine."

"I think he told me already." Medeha thought about the previous night and the conversation she had had with Edmund. "He told me that he sold you and your siblings out to the White Witch."

"Unfortunately that's what he did, yes. And before that he was already giving us a hard time. Especially Lucy." She sighed but then an affectionate glow came to the Gentle Queen's eyes when she continued. "Though he got his act together after his first meeting with Aslan. I won't say he became another person entirely – and I really wouldn't have wanted him to – but he worked hard to become a better person ever since."

"I think he is a great person," agreed Medeha. "And a good king as well, probably. But I can't be the judge of that, of course."

"He is a wonderful king ... always was, from the very minute the crown was put on his head. But it's still hard work for him every day – for all of us, actually. Loving your people comes easily, you know? But ruling a country is hard. There's so much to consider."

Medeha smiled sympathetically. "I understand."

"But Edmund … I guess, it's harder still for him than for all of us. He'll never admit it, of course. But I think that he still has a difficult time, accepting what he did ten years ago. And who he was back then."

"You don't think he has forgiven himself for the betrayal against you and against Aslan?"

Susan's mouth became tight. "No, he hasn't. Not fully anyway. He was quick to forgive us, though, for helping him go wrong."

"You?"

"Peter … Myself ... We both played a part in it. I won't say we were the main drivers for Edmund's bad decisions, but we could have treated him differently."

"Different how?"

Susan looked bashful. "With more respect. I think we always belittled him. Never took him seriously. You see, Peter always felt responsible for the rest of us, and that put him under a lot of pressure. And Edmund? He wasn't as easy to look after as Lucy and I were. He was inquisitive and stubborn and provocative. As a result Peter used to be quite short-tempered with him."

"I get that," said Medeha, smiling and thinking of her own younger brother.

Susan smiled back at her. "And I think I was sort of over-caring. Even after we became kings and queens… for example I was _mad_ at Peter when he told me he was sending Edmund on the King's Quest one year into our reign. And now I really feel ashamed of myself, for not believing in my brother. He made it back safely. It was such a huge boost for his confidence in himself, and I would have done everything in my power to deny this to him. In the end, it changed my mind about him."

"Changed how?" asked Medeha, feeling sympathy for the queen. She had heard all about the King's Quest from Lucy and she had a younger brother herself, whom she never would have let go on such a quest, even though Medoar was fourteen. Older even than King Peter had been, taking the quest.

Still looking a little ashamed of herself, Susan pushed back a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "Well … it's difficult to explain, really. See, Lucy's always been a lot like Peter; gay and full of joy and easy to excite. Edmund was always more like me; graver, more sceptical … but then again – and I failed to see that in time – he's also quite different from me in many ways; he's more courageous, more eager to prove himself. Aslan saw it in him at once. And both, Peter and Lucy saw it long before me." She hung her head. "I should have supported him more, it would have added to his self-confidence."

"Maybe you were just trying to keep him safe from harm."

Susan lifted her head and smirked. "Yes, I was. Silly me." Suddenly she giggled. "I really should have known better. Edmund's always found his way to get hurt, anyway. And he dealt with it." The queen's eyes shone with pride. "I hate it, I hate seeing him get hurt. Or Peter. Or Lucy – _Aslan forbid_. But it happens, only yesterday it did. It took me far too long, but I came to a point where I finally accepted that I just need to have faith. Aslan is looking after us. He has a plan for all of us."

A glow had come to Susan's face, and Medeha couldn't help being amazed by it. She reached out, a little shyly, to squeeze Susan's hand and said, "Yes, he does."

"Aslan means a lot to you, too, doesn't he? I mean on Terebinthia?"

Medeha nodded. "Yes, we believe in Aslan as much as you do here in Narnia. But he hasn't been to see us for centuries."

"He's there with you every day." Susan returned the squeeze on Medeha's hand and added, quietly, "In your heart. He's there."

"Yes, he is." Medeha smiled as a warm feeling overcame her. A question came to her mind and before she even knew what she was doing, she heard herself ask, "Do you think he approves of what I feel for your brother, Susan?"

The Gentle Queen chuckled lightly. "What _do_ you feel, Medeha?"

Medeha thought for a while about how she could put it into words. "I am not so sure how to say it."

"Let me rephrase my question, do you think you could love him?"

Medeha felt herself blush at the directness of the question. In a very low, shy tone she replied, "I think I already do."

XXX

 **A/N:** Oh, sweet, lovely Medeha ... I think Edmund really deserves a person like her – don't you? Let me know :)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** So sorry I let you wait for this so long! I do hope this chapter will make up for it a bit ... if you can spare a minute or two, just leave a short review at the end, let me know what you think or scold me for not updating for so long! I deserve the latter ...

As always I want to thank _**Lydwina Marie**_ for beta-ing this!

And now please enjoy :)

X

Negotiations with giants were nerve-racking and terribly tiresome. In fact, Edmund even wondered whether the brute understood his words or not. Maybe he wasn't speaking loud enough? Or was he talking too fast? Whatever it was – his words seem to evoke no detectable reaction from his counterpart: the chief giant was staring down at him with small, beady eyes, mouth hanging half-open as it scratched its paunch absentmindedly.

The brute was sitting on a rock on their side of the border, while Peter, Edmund, and their troops were neatly arranged in a defensive line along the Narnian side. A line of archers stood behind them, their bows held at the ready – in case the giants should suddenly decide to raise their clubs at their kings. While Peter just stood there, clad in all his royal magnificence, with Orieus to his right and Esther to his left, hands casually resting on their sword hilts, Edmund was the one doing the talking. To demonstrate his interest in choosing words over weapons, he kept his hands away from his sword and loosely folded behind his back.

He stepped forward a little, stopping just short of actually crossing the border, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Staring into the small black eyes that gazed at him from above, he cleared his throat and proceeded to talk.

"In the name not only of our brother, the High King, but of Aslan Himself, I shall ask you one more time: call back all of your kind from Narnian grounds, and do it fast. You have no right to enter our country, and we will not tolerate any further raids on our people." Edmund had briefly thought about naming all of Peter's titles, and maybe even add his own as well for special effect, but a look into the blank face above him told him his effort would have been wasted.

Uri-Urath, the chief giant, clearly hadn't much interest in ranks or titles. Edmund didn't even know if he owned any kind of actual rank himself – apart from being the strongest of the lot (and possibly also the ugliest). However unimpressed the giant demonstrated himself to be, he clearly had heard the words spoken to him this time. He thrust a massive hand in Edmund's direction, forcing the Narnian king to take two steps backwards in order not to be knocked off his feet by the giant finger pointed at him, and roared, "You been killin' on o' ours!"

"Yes," said Edmund firmly, readjusting his cloak after having accidentally tread on it. "We killed one of yours because he was within our territory and attacked our people. We had no choice. Our brother, the High King, already made clear that we would not tolerate your aggression against our people.

"You ain't no right to kill one o' ours!" growled Uri-Urath.

"We have every right to defend ourselves on Narnian ground," Edmund retorted, feeling like an adult reasoning with a stubborn child. "Our royal brother came to an agreement with Nasolgnom almost a decade ago, in which the borderlines were clearly defined, and both Narnians and Ettins agreed on the right of the other to defend themselves against aggression from across the border."

"Nasolgnom is dead," roared Uri-Urath impatiently. "Killed 'im meself!"

 _Did you now_? thought Edmund, but bit his tongue so as not to say it out loud. What good had sarcasm ever done in a situation like this? He glanced over at Peter, wondering how long the High King would tolerate this. There was a deep crease splitting his brother's brow – a sign of barely-contained impatience. But other than that, Peter didn't let any other emotions show.

Secretly, the Just King wondered when exactly Uri-Urath had killed Nasolgnom to take over leadership of the tribe of Ettins nearest to the Narnian border, for their latest intelligence told of Nasolgnom still being head of the tribe. In fact, when Peter and his men had secured the border mere days ago, it had been Nasolgnom they had encountered. The assassination must have occurred only within a day or two before.

It didn't matter, Edmund decided. Uri-Urath was here now, and Edmund had to make sure the giant understood his message. Unfortunately, so far the chieftain showed no signs of understanding, and Edmund cursed to himself. Why, in Aslan's name, did the giant have to choose this point in time for an internal overthrow? Or was the peace Peter and his troops had just restored the actual reason behind the giantish revolution?

 _Just you wait – before you know it, you'll be looking for another leader,_ thought Edmund, glancing at the other giants. _Unless you all decide to accept our peace conditions_.

With a glance over his shoulder, the Just King assured himself that their troops were steady and strong, and ready to hold out against another attack. His eyes met with Peter's and they both knew it. Words had failed – Uri-Urath was possessed by too strong a desire to prove himself in front of his tribe. He had chosen aggression over negotiations long before they met that morning.

And indeed, it was only just when the two kings exchanged glances that Uri-Urath suddenly roared, "Get 'em! I want 'em dead!"

 _Fool_ , thought Edmund as he drew his sword, noticing in his periphery as Peter, Esther, and Orieus did the same. Carron, captain of Edmund's troops, took command of the archers, and they landed a rain of arrows on the giants before they could throw themselves at the Narnians with their clubs high.

"Focus on Uri-Urath, Ed," came Peter's voice next to him, "and so will I. The others will surrender once we've felled their leader."

Giants were big and brutish, a mass of strength. But they were also slow thinkers and not very agile, and their control over their physical strength was often very poor. And they had weak points, too. Luckily Peter knew those very well – for that knowledge had often enough saved his life.

Edmund was sure that Peter's assessment was correct; once they managed to defeat their main aggressor, Uri-Urath, peace would be restored. He also held full trust in their general and their captains to keep the other brutes at bay until then.

Their tactic to beat Uri-Urath was simple – they had used it against other giants before. And this giant responded to it perfectly; time and time again he bent down to try and catch one of them with his free hand whilst using the club to try and chase the other one from his legs. Edmund, being the more lithe of the two brothers, made sure he was the one the brute had his eyes fixated on. Slipping away Uri-Urath's greedy fist, the king managed to cut a few harmless but painful wounds into the giant's forearm, keeping him occupied. Meanwhile, Peter dealt out quite a few powerful blows at the brute's legs. It wouldn't be long before they had him down on his knees, and from there they could reach his middle and stand a chance to really harm him.

It was just when Uri-Urath was almost at that point when coincidence helped him finally to get ahead of Edmund. A misplaced arrow had forced the king to change directions as he fled from the brute's fist, and the giant finally caught him by the hem of his tunic and lifted him off his feet. But Peter reacted quickly upon seeing this; beneath his dangling feet Edmund could see his brother thrust Rhindon so deeply into the giant's leg that the blade came out the other side. Uri-Urath howled in pain and lashed out viciously with his club, but he didn't hit anything at all. Instead, he overbalanced and down he went; first onto his knees, and then further down when Esther's sword sliced into his back.

The pain of being stabbed a second time in such a short period caused the giant to loosen his grip on Edmund, and the king used his chance to wriggle free just before Uri-Urath finally fell. Standing on firm ground again, slightly shaken from his fall, Edmund needed a moment to reorient himself, but just as he landed, a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Ed! Look out!"

A giant shadow engulfed him – but just before the massive body of the giant came down on his head, a strong force knocked him off his feet. Edmund felt dazed for a moment, and he needed a few seconds to gather what had happened. He was lying on the earthy ground, and Peter – fully armoured, of course – lay on top of him. He posed quite a heavy weight, but Edmund was glad it was his brother he was buried underneath, and not the giant. Still – breathing became difficult.

"Get off me," he managed to force out, and a little awkwardly, they both scrambled to their feet.

Orieus appeared instantly to assist them. "The other giants have drawn back, my kings," he announced. "They will choose a new leader, no doubt, but I don't suppose they will test you and your army's strength again any time soon."

"Thank Aslan," grumbled Peter as he sheathed his sword after wiping it on a nearby tuft of grass. He took off his helmet and thew a dark glare at the dead Uri-Urath lying beside him. "I've had quite enough of those bloody giants lately."

Edmund grinned. Susan wouldn't have approved of his choice of words, especially not in front of their army general, but sometimes things had to be said.

With Peter and Edmund in the lead, the troops returned to the top of Ettinsrock. Orieus was walking between them. He had been taking his troops for a march along the border over the past couple of days, and had some information to share with the kings. "The other tribes had drawn back completely, at least for now," he said. "But we must still keep an eye on them. It's only a matter of time before there will be another revolution."

"I'm keeping that in mind, General," Peter said. "We'll fortify our outpost and keep the border under control at all costs. But for now there's a memorial we've got to prepare for, and as much as I am sure that our beloved queens have seen to things, I reckon they'll like to receive our help sooner than later."

"You're right of course, my king," agreed Orieus. He turned his head to look at Edmund. "I understand you brought that young Terebinthian lady here from Cair Paravel, King Edmund?"

Edmund threw Peter a pleading look, but the High King merely smirked and shrugged. It was clear that he didn't intend to support his brother on this point.

Edmund sighed. "I understand it was a mistake, General. But since the giants do not pose a threat at the current moment, I thought perhaps we could postpone this discussion?"

"Well," said Orieus, "I don't agree with your royal decision as you surely have gathered. But she is your responsibility, and I am merely a military advisor. I do hope my assessment is correct and there _will_ be no further attacks. You would not relish explaining to Count Medane that his daughter was abducted by giants, would you, King Edmund?"

"No!" replied Edmund, horrified. "Not at all!"

For the rest of the way they walked in silence.

They found the preparations at Ettinsrock to have progressed immensely when they arrived back at the camp. Looking up at the position of the sun, Peter announced, "It's only just before noon. Come on, Ed – the girls must have been working hard to get so much done in so short an amount of time, and we ought to tell them we're back and ready to help. Besides, I'm hungry. Let's hope Susan has some lunch for us."

X

As the afternoon proceeded, more and more Narnian citizens arrived at the camp. Medeha did her best to help the queens at making everyone comfortable and supplied with food and drink. It was decided that the kings and queens should speak to their subjects just before dawn, and afterwards everyone would be staying at Ettinsrock overnight. The tents the troops had provided would be crowded, and as many of the talking beasts who could spend the night outdoors would do so. It was a struggle to get a sitting arrangement that suited everybody, with the smallest beasts perching in front, and the largest at the back. There were also a few dwarves, whom they had to place somewhere in between. Everyone sat on the ground, on rugs and blankets, but no one minded as long as they could catch a glimpse of their sovereigns.

Medeha thought that both Susan and Lucy looked very beautiful, although their dresses were rough and they wore thick cloaks to protect against the chilly weather.

When it was near dawn, the four royal siblings gathered together on top of a rock where they could be seen even by the smallest of their subjects. Medeha stood a little ways off, feeling out of place. Her eyes wandered over the clearing, and she took in with amazement all the different creatures who had come to see Edmund and his siblings.

At the thought of Edmund, Medeha quickly looked over at him, watching as he stood in the middle of his siblings, talking with Peter. Every now and then he averted his gaze from his brother, as if looking for something – or someone – amongst the crowd. Perhaps he was looking out for Lennox, the hare, and his family. Medeha had already seen them, but she could no longer find them among the others. So many had come!

She glanced over at the sovereigns again. Peter was now talking to Lucky, his arm around her, half-burying her underneath his heavy cloak. But where was Edmund? Hadn't he been with them just a moment ago? She turned around – and jumped at a sudden deep voice next to her ear.

"What are you doing here?" Medeha whirled and came face to face with Edmund, who gave her a warm smile.

"I'd like you to stand with us on the rock," he said, and nodded at his siblings. "Come on."

She felt him take her hand and guide her towards the front of the crowd. Grinning down at her from his superior position on the rock, Peter knelt to help her up without raising any questions. While Edmund took her by the hips, she quickly caught hold of Peter's hands and before she knew what was happening, the kings had hoisted her up. From there she had a brilliant view over all the Narnians who had come, while Peter helped his brother get back up too.

The Narnians were giving her curious looks, and Medeha soon began to feel uncomfortable. She didn't belong here. She glanced at Edmund, wondering if he had noticed how misplaced she felt. He must have, for he placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered softly into her ear, "Don't worry. In a minute Peter will greet our guests and then he will introduce you as well. Leave it to him – they'll all love you, you'll see. Just as they love him."

It was indeed fascinating how the crowd clung to their High King's lips as soon as he began to speak. Everyone listened closely, their faces filled with joy.

"Narnians! In the name of our royal brother, King Edmund, and our royal sisters, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, and in the name of Aslan Himself, it is my greatest pleasure to welcome you here at Ettinsrock!"

The crowd cheered, and Peter winked at Medeha, then announced loudly, "I am also happy to introduce to you Medeha, daughter to Count Medane of Terebinthia, who has recently become a close friend to us." Again the Narnians cheered, and Peter gave them all a grin, but then his expression darkened. "The reason we are gathered here today is a grave one..."

All the time Peter spoke, Medeha could scarcely concentrate, so aware was she of the eyes that kept flickering over her – too aware of Edmund's presence so close behind her that she could feel his breath against the back of her neck. Did his subjects like seeing her so close by his side? Would they accept her if there was ever to be more between her and their Just King than the friendship Peter had spoken of?

After Peter had finished his speech, Edmund stepped forward. He spoke not nearly as long as his brother had, but the words he chose were confident and encouraging to the Narnians who had lost loved ones to giant raids. "Under Aslan's guidance and the High King's lead, we restored peace between Narnians and Ettins. Be certain that we shall also reinforce our outposts and make sure the borders will be secured at all times..."

He said more – much more, but Medeha didn't remember much of it afterwards. The moment Edmund stepped back to make room for his sisters, he took her hand into his and squeezed it. Then he bent close and whispered, "I'm so glad you're here with us. With me."

His words made her stomach clench and the hairs on her neck stand on end. She wished they could be alone, but it was clear that tonight they wouldn't find a moment to themselves. And in the morning they would travel back to Cair Paravel, from where Medeha would board the _Splendour Hyaline_ and sail towards her home. Without Edmund.

She sighed and threw him a glance over her shoulder. She would have to speak with her father and get him to invite her newfound friends to their home.

Very soon.

X

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Didn't leave you waiting so long this time ... ;) hope you're still enjoying this little love story. Do let me know!

Oh, and chapter 9 of _**What Happened At Farford**_ is out ... I'm not sure if the email alert function worked

XXX

Early in the morning after the memorial the Narnian army broke camp at Ettinsrock and started on their way home. Much to his siblings' joy High King Peter decided to hand over the responsibility for his troops to Esther, their captain, so he could fly home with his siblings on the griphons' backs.

The small party left just after dawn, and all the time as they flew Medeha couldn't help feeling torn between looking forward to getting back to the comfort the castle provided, and dreading the moment she would have to bid her new friends – one in particular – goodbye.

They found Cair Paravel to be just as they had left it; calm and in peace. Peridan greeted them all happily in the courtyard at the main entrance and quickly updated them on the latest news. Nothing much had happened, the most significant maybe being that a letter had been received from Count Medane to High King Peter, presumably asking after his daughter's well-being, and another one to Medeha herself. Peridan handed them both each a thick roll of parchment. It was still about an hour before the royal evening meal was to be held, and so Medeha excused herself to read her letter in private.

Despite the great time she had had in Narnia, she began to feel homesick at reading her father's kind words and thought that maybe it really was time she returned home to her family. She brought up the topic when they were sitting together to eat that same evening.

"I'll have my father invite you all to stay with us for a few weeks," she proposed in between courses. "I would _love_ to show you my home and have you be _our_ guests for a change. And it should give you a fine opportunity to speak to my father about what happened in the north – rather than just writing to him about it. You'll be able to explain the situation with the giant I killed much better that way, don't you think?"

Peter nodded thoughtfully at her suggestion. "You're absolutely right, Medeha. I'd much rather speak to him in person about that. The only thing I'm worried about is that I wouldn't want to leave Peridan here with the responsibility of having to look after state affairs for a prolonged period of time. After all, he is probably busy enough as it is, with all the duties he currently has."

Medeha noticed that the High King was looking very weary that evening and she was suddenly reminded of the morning when she had first spoken to him – the day after the feast, when he had been sitting at breakfast, looking tired and disheveled. Now he was in no state of disarray, although very comfortable clad, but he was looking a lot more exhausted than he had on that very morning.

"That's not something you should be worried about, Sire," said Peridan. "Unless there will be more trouble rising up in the north, I feel perfectly confident about being in charge for a couple of weeks. You surely deserve – and _need_ – a nice long period of recuperation – you've had a trying time of this winter."

"A holiday!" beamed Lucy, rising from her chair in excitement. "We've never had one since the beginning of our reign! Peter, _please_! Do let's go!"

Medeha smiled at Lucy. She had long since come to love the enthusiastic young queen almost like a sister and would be glad to have her around for a few weeks, this time her being the one showing her own home to her friends. She glanced over at Edmund, who was sitting next to her, wondering what he would think of it. He turned his head just in time to catch her glimpse at him and with a cheeky smirk playing around his lips, he winked at Medeha.

"It's a brilliant idea," he agreed. "I'd love to see more of Terebinthia than we did, back in the days when we went the first time. – Besides, Peter, it would be an _excellent_ opportunity to strengthen our relationship with the counts – especially Medane, of course. But we might even get a chance to meet up with the others too."

"Well, I suppose it's settled then – we're going on a holiday," said Peter with a nod, trying but not quite succeeding to hide a happy grin at the thought. "Always assuming Medane will have us, of course."

Medeha noticed that at the idea of having a holiday, Peter, who had always seemed very serious to her, suddenly looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him. According to what Lucy had told her, he and Edmund must indeed have had a very difficult and tiring time for months. Later, when the two young ladies sat together by the fire, Lucy confirmed it once more.

"I do hope we can come and see you and your family on Terebinthia," she said. "I'd love to very much – and I know, so do my siblings." She gave an indignant snort. "Trust Edmund to come up with an argument about strengthening our relationship with the Terebinthian lords – not that there would be anything wrong with that, of course! But his most prominent motive to go would be you, there's no doubt!"

Medeha felt herself blush, and she smiled timidly. "I will talk to Father first thing when I'm home. Maybe you can come in early summer! Terebinthia is at its most beautiful then; green hills, the deep blue sea, crystal clear streams running through the woods. And –" she blushed very deeply, "– I do feel guilty about saying so, since you have been such formidable hosts yourself, but you'll just _love_ the food! We've got a variety that I'm not sure not even Narnia could match."

Chuckling, Lucy patted her arm amiably. "I know, I remember thinking that very same thing when we visited last time. Don't worry about it, you're probably right – and I promise I'm not offended." She paused for a moment and then sighed. "Aslan knows it's all just what we need. It's been an awful time we've had of the last winter, and I long to see everyone perk up a bit. And wouldn't it do Peter some good? He's looking so haggard, did you notice?" She sighed again, looking deeply worried. "Actually it's high time you got to know his real personality. He's usually very much the merry type, you see?"

"I still find him most intimidating," Medeha admitted.

Lucy laughed. "Many do. But trust me, you won't after a couple of weeks on a holiday. He's the nicest person, really. It's just the responsibility he carries that makes him so tense and stern – especially in dire times." A conspicuous smirk suddenly appeared on the young queen's pretty face and she bent closer to Medeha and whispered, "but I shouldn't talk to you about Peter, should I, if you're really more interested in having some more time to spend with Ed."

Medeha felt her cheeks get hot, and she was sure she had blushed more deeply than she had just a moment before. But Lucy was right of course. Gladly, the kind young queen was too compassionate to tease her about it. Instead she put a gentle hand on Medeha's forearm and squeezed lightly.

"I can take you up to his chambers, if you want me to," she suggested.

"Oh no," said Medeha at once. "I couldn't be there alone with him, could I? But maybe we could send for him to be here with us."

"Not necessary," said Lucy with a grin. "He's going to be down here any moment, just after he's through with reading all the news reports from the west, that have come in during the last few days. I just thought you'd like to sit with him in his study while he's busy working through them, but since you so shy, _I_ get to spend a little more time with you!"

"Oh …" Medeha felt a little stupid at having jumped to the wrong conclusions. "Well, I didn't know you were suggesting taking me to his study! But anyway, I wouldn't want to disturb his work."

Lucy patted her arm. "Don't worry, he'll be here soon enough! He wouldn't want to miss the opportunity of spending an evening with you now that you'll soon be off across the sea again."

Indeed, Edmund appeared around half an hour later, and not much after that, Peter and Susan came to sit with them as well.

Edmund made himself comfortable on the the settee, right next to Medeha, and their legs were touching all the way to their ankles, and when his siblings didn't look, he edged even a little closer so that she could lean against him. It was exciting, and she could feel her heart thump strongly in her chest at being so close to him.

Susan retired very early that evening, expressing her regret that she couldn't spend more time with Medeha, while secretly winking at her. Then she told Peter and Lucy that they had better get an early night too. Although it was true – the High King still had a very weary look about him – Medeha suspected that Susan just wanted to give their guest the opportunity to be alone with Edmund. Gladly, here in the kings' and queens' private sitting room it would seem perfectly innocent.

Not surprisingly, Lucy and Peter both retired shortly after their eldest sister, and Edmund shook his head at them after they had gone and chuckled. "I know they didn't want to make you uncomfortable – or _me_ either – but still, they could just as well have said that they wanted to leave us to ourselves," he remarked. "Old dafties couldn't have been more obvious anyway."

Medeha nodded, but just as Edmund had said she was glad for the others' discreteness. Any comment on the situation would have made her highly uncomfortable. She wondered if Edmund thought the same, but he seemed more or less unfazed by his siblings' comments most of the time. Whether that was a mask or not Medeha was unable to tell.

Carefully as to not seem too cheeky she pushed herself even still a little closer to him on the settee, her slight movement causing him to turn his head and look at her.

If only she knew what he was thinking! But his face gave nothing away. Susan had told Medeha – and she had seen it for herself – how hard a time he had hiding anger or disagreement. But now, she couldn't read anything in his calm expression. She swallowed timidly and leaned in yet a little closer.

And so did he.

And then his lips brushed against hers in a brief, gentle kiss. It was little more than a peck really, but it was the sweetest sensation Medeha could remember having had so far; his lips felt soft and warm against hers and there was a faint spicy smell about him which she found immensely pleasing. She breathed it in deeply, vowing to memorise it for when she went home and keep it somehow until they were going to meet again.

X

It was around a fortnight after Medeha's departure that the _Hyaline_ was due to be back. The atmosphere inside the castle of Cair Paravel had recently become a little tense again. A messenger had come from the north saying that some of the giant tribes had once more been seen along the Narnian border and there even had been a little fight here and there. Orieus had moved out again with a troop of reinforcements for the border, and the kings awaited word from him to arrive on any day now.

Peter's mood was on an all time low – he was uncharacteristically irritable and ill-tempered most of the time and Susan had mentioned several times that she feared he would decline to accompany his siblings to Terebinthia – _if_ the invitation came.

Lucy hoped with all her heart that the uproar in the north would come to an end before summer. She didn't think it would be a proper holiday if they traveled to Terebinthia without Peter – and Aslan knew, their eldest brother needed some time to recuperate from the past months as much as the others, if not more!

Lucy was sat on a chest in the armoury, holding her bow on her lap and watching as her brothers got themselves ready for their morning training. With no guests to impress and just a light training set up by Esther, neither of the two was going for full armor. An iron-clad vest combined with iron gauntlets and a helmet were their garment of choice that morning.

"I wonder if Medeha will convince her father to invite for the summer months," said Lucy into the silence, making her brothers look at her.

Peter gave a small shrug while adjusting his gauntlets. "I hope we'll be able to accept the invitation if it comes," he replied. "There's no saying if the giants will calm until then. – Aslan's mane, Ed, do tighten the vest, it feels as if I'm going to lose it any moment," he added irritably, directed at his brother who had been doing the laces at his side.

"It's fine, Peter," said Edmund, sounding equally impatient. He had taken the most of his elder brother's grumbling lately and Lucy could tell that he was beginning to get sick of it. "If I tighten it further you won't be able to move properly and any opponent will have beaten you in a trice."

In reply Peter mumbled something under his breath that Lucy couldn't hear, but it made Edmund pull at the laces so strongly that the High King gasped.

"Aslan! _Ed_!"

Lucy giggled behind her hand, but stopped when Peter strode out of the armoury without so much as looking at either of his siblings.

"Lion's Grace!" said Edmund, knitting his brows. "Isn't he in a mood!"

"He needs this holiday more than any of us," said Lucy with a sigh. "To think the giants are raising up trouble again! I do hope Orieus can handle it."

"Not that if he can, that will convince Peter he won't be needed anyway," replied Edmund with a frown. "But we'll see. The _Hyaline_ will probably be back tonight – then we'll see if there's going to be a holiday at all." He turned his side towards Lucy. "Since Pete has just stormed off, could you lace up my vest for me please, Lu?"

Lucy could and afterwards she accompanied her brother to the training grounds where she stayed to watch the whole morning training session.

It was around late afternoon when the first of the awaited messages arrived; just after the four sovereigns had sat down for their afternoon tea, Windbeater, the swallow, came with news from the north, getting in word from Orieus and his troops and assuring that all was under control.

Later a messenger was sent up from the port with news from Terebinthia. The _Hyaline_ was indeed back and the young sailor the ship's captain had sent up to the Cair with a roll of parchment from Count Medane was greeted with joy and excitement. After the evening meal the four sovereigns sat together in their private room. Peter unrolled the parchment – as it had been addressed to him personally. He read it out loud to his siblings. After he had ended a cheerful yell escaped Lucy and she launched herself at her eldest brother.

"He invited us! Isn't it wonderful? Oh, I shall _love_ sailing there and getting some time to explore the island. We had so little time the first time we went!"

"Yes, and it was a perfectly beautiful place to be," Susan added, a smile brightening her face.

"And Count Medane is a generous man, if I remember it correctly," Edmund added, looking very pleased too.

There was a hint of a frown on Peter's face when he replied, "Well, I suppose his generosity won't extend to not minding that we put his daughter at risk in Ettinsmore, Edmund."

"I'll explain everything to him," Edmund offered at once but Peter shook his head.

"No," he said. " _I_ will take responsibility for that. I think it would help you building a better relationship with him if he considers _me_ being the one who put his daughter at risk –" and at the words that followed now even Peter, who had been so ill-tempered lately, grinned broadly, "– seeing as you might end up asking him a very particular question at some point or other ..."

Edmund blushed a very deep shade of red at this, and Lucy couldn't help giggling. But before anyone else could say anything, she quickly asked, "Does this mean, Peter, that you're going to come with us for certain?"

Peter smiled at her. "I suppose I _could_ do with a holiday. Orieus has reported that the northern border is under control, Peridan is more than capable of managing everything around the Cair … and Aslan knows I'd love to go to Terebinthia again." He winked at Susan, adding, "If I recall it correctly, there's no place – not even Narnia – where one does get better food."

"So it's settled then – we're going to Terebinthia this summer," cried Lucy happily and looked around at her siblings, seeing their faces shine.

XXX

 **A/N:** As you might have noticed this is Edmund's and Medeha's story ... but if you like a little bit of fluff, you can read all about _Peter's_ experiences on Terebintha in my shortfic _**Terebinthian Sun.**_


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